


Magic Hat of Jumping Jacks

by nucleus8



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kid Fic, Kidfic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:31:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nucleus8/pseuds/nucleus8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Merlin meet at a vending machine. Despite being in a hospital gown, Merlin is not actually a patient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

One day, Arthur thought, the midnight trip to the vending machine will not be the highlight of the night. He knew at some point he would have more to look forward to than whether the mysterious man who stocked the machine had gone with Snickers or M&M's in this week's batch. His hand jingled the change in his pocket as he stared through the glass, looking past the assortment of overly-priced, overly-preserved snack foods lined up neatly on the racks. One day his life would consist of more than hours of endless lectures, readings, and re-reading. One day he would actually be doing something productive in the world. He sighed, running a palm over his messy hair, resting his forehead against the glass. 

None of this was new. He knew what he was getting himself into when signing up for his first chemistry course at about the same time most of his friends were getting their first yachts, or worse, getting married. Somehow after his father’s funeral the only thing that made sense was a transcontinental flight across the Atlantic and diving headlong into a pile of Ivy League admission applications. Today had just been a long day, and was going to be a longer night the more time he wasted in the hospital lounge while a pile of books awaited him in one of the 15th floor study rooms. 

Shaking his head a bit, he stood up straight, prepared to go with the Snickers, and saw another person looking back at him in the glass reflection. 

"Oh - sorry there, " Arthur stumbled out, "I didn't realize you were waiting."

He always forgot that there were actual patients in the hospital, and had he ever gone to somewhere other than the student classrooms, or gotten off the elevator on a different floor, he would be greeted with hospital gowns and IV poles instead of white boards and microscope lockers. He punched his numbers into the keypad and quickly threw his quarters down the slot. He told himself he was rushing in order to be polite, not because he was uncomfortable around sick people. He was in his 2nd year of medical school, he could not be put off by a simple hospital gown and a pair of haunted blue eyes.

He bent down to grab the candy bar and turned to face the man, who, by all accounts, had not moved since he first saw him in the reflection. On second glance Arthur’s gaze lingered longer, taking in the patient's jeans and t-shirt under the hospital gown. He was also missing an ID bracelet. Arthur opened his mouth -- more as an expression of confusion, than a desire to a say anything. Before he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind, the man spoke.

"Are you Jason Cole?”

He was still, and appeared exhausted, but radiated a kind of quiet energy that held Arthur in place. His straight dark hair hung just in front of his eyes, a bit grown out from a decent haircut. He was lean, with a kind of wiry musculature that hinted at a toughness someone wouldn't want to test. His eyes held Arthur in place and it took a moment for him to realize he hadn't answered the question. That annoying question he fielded on an every other day basis. He cleared his throat to speak, but he was preempted again.

"Are you? Not that it really matters if you're not, it's just that --,"

"I'm not." 

"Oh. Well, you look --,"

"--exactly like him, I know. But if I actually was some famous TV prat, the highlight of my evening would not be this vending machine, I assure you."

His more sour thoughts were usually reserved for the low-grade, internal berating that was his background soundtrack. Except for tonight, apparently. And he still wasn't sure whether this man should even be out of his hospital bed. 

"Well. Great, you're not him, but you really do look like him and..." 

The man looked away briefly and sighed. 

"...and I would really appreciate about five minutes of your time."

Arthur’s eyebrows shot upward and he began walking away even before he shook his head. The last thing he needed was another patient who thought that because he had a hospital ID badge, he could actually help them in any way. 

"I'm just a medical student, sorry." He grasped the Snickers bar tightly and almost passed the man before a hand shot out, grabbing his arm.

"My…Gwen. Gwen loves you -- well, loves Jason Cole anyway, and she's sick and she's tired and she hasn't smiled since they stuck an IV in her arm. Can you just - can you just come stop in and say hi? She's miserable."

Arthur stared at the pale fingers wrapped around his arm and shook his head again.

"I'm not going to *pretend* to be some--,"

"She's *four*. She won't know the difference."

At that, Arthur lifted his gaze, the tired man's face no more than a few inches from his own.

"Please."

And Arthur was nodding before he was thinking. It wasn't until they were in the elevator, headed to the pediatric ward that he realized something was still off.

"Umm..."

“Merlin.”

Arthur nodded. He was following a stranger. Named Merlin. Naturally.

"Right. So - why are you wearing a hospital gown?"

Merlin’s head snapped down, as if the attire was a surprise to him as well. When he lifted his head, Arthur thought he might have seen a slight upward curve to his mouth.

“Gwen wouldn't put one on if I didn't first. She can be incredibly stubborn."

Arthur felt a pressure release in his chest and nodded silently.

"What were you thinking?," Merlin asked, staring at him, curious and in his apparently always disconcerting manner. 

The elevator doors chimed and Arthur followed Merlin’s quick pace.

"I thought you were a psych patient."

At that, Merlin turned back with a small quick smile, wrinkles barely forming at the corners of his blue eyes. 

"Just depends on the day really."

Arthur thought, quite correctly, that he was already in way over his head. 

They walked quickly and quietly by the nursing station, a circular fortress that took up almost the entirely of the floor's central area. The walls were painted sky blue and covered with small white hand prints with scribbled signatures underneath. The desk nurse barely acknowledged them as they filed past, their steps echoing in the empty hallway. Merlin’s footsteps slowed and stopped finally in front of room 4218. He flicked a gaze briefly at Arthur with a quiet command.

"Stay here."

\-----------------------------------------------------

In retrospect, Arthur realized he had actually had two very good opportunities to perhaps not gracefully, but certainly effectively, exit from that situation. Merlin could have been barely a memory, just another addition to the long list of mistaken identity interactions that had plagued his life since some random New Jersey man, who just happened to bear an eerie resemblance to him, hijacked children's programming on Saturday mornings. Gwen would have gone on watching Jason's Jumping Jacks! faithfully, ignorant of Arthur’s small world and he of hers. 

A knock on his office door jolted Arthur out of his daytime wanderings. 

"Dr.P, have you finished with that chart yet? Amy's mother needs to leave soon."

"Yes! Yes, sorry," he responded, looking down to the small prescription pad under his right hand. “Ondansetron 4 mg PO QD." Quickly scribbling the jumble of letters that now passed for his signature, he ripped off the page and passed it to his office nurse.

"Great," Ms. Halden replied. "Rooms 3 and 4 both have patients waiting." She bared her teeth in a way only a very very dense man would mistake as a smile, and ducked out of his office. 

Arthur felt a small tingling of guilt. Ms. Halden, despite spending the majority of her fifty-seven years as a waitress in a Morningside Heights diner, was hands-down his best nurse. She had come to him with 25 year-old nursing degree and no previous experience. Before he could formulate a polite way to ask, she spoke up shortly and plainly.

"I was always going to be a nurse. Then I met and married my Harry and helped him set up a new business. We ran the diner on 116th Street for 24 years. He's dead now and I'm not going anytime soon. I spent a year taking courses to update my skills. I'm a good nurse." She looked away for the first time since entering his office. 

"Now you just have to decide if skills are enough, or if you'd rather have the added bonus of looking at one of these twenty-something new girls every day." She had the first streaks of gray through her light brown hair, simply fashioned in a low bun at the nape of her neck. Ms. Halden finally looked back up, her brown eyes meeting his. Arthur couldn’t help the small smile. 

" 'HH Eats & Treats' ?"

"Harry Halden," she said proudly. "That was us."

Arthur hired her on the spot and cancelled the rest of the interviews. 

That was three years ago, and though he did eventually need to hire Tom and Wendy to handle the growing patient load, Ms. Halden remained firmly his right-hand man. When she gave him that look, he knew he needed to have 'less cute, more speed', as she frequently put it. He had room to work a bit faster today. Daydreaming about Merlin and Gwen would have to wait.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arthur lived in a decent, if nondescript, apartment on the upper west side. He had walls separating his kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom, which was an exponential improvement from his days at Columbia. He picked up curry chicken and somosas from Kismat and jiggled his key in the street door for the requisite 30 seconds until it would open. 

All of it was ridiculous considering the English estate that Morgana ran with the efficiency and boredom of a brilliant woman waiting for her life to start. He had been back twice since Uther’s funeral. The first time was to assure Morgana he was alive, and indeed pursuing the one profession he vowed never to touch, in America, the country in which he’d vowed never to live. He met her gaze so she believed him, he tolerated her spontaneous choking hugs to assuage the guilt of her loneliness, and he kept his bags packed to keep any furtive hope from blooming. He signed stacks of paperwork ensuring Morgana complete independence to run the Pendragon Estate and studiously avoided the 1st Annual Pendragon Conference on Maternal Mortality - in honor of Dr. Uther Pendragon who devoted his life’s work to the study of safe childbirth. Dr. Uther Pendragon, who could have spent his days in comfortable leisure as Lord Uther Pendragon, Duke of Essex, but instead worked tirelessly to combat the very tragedy that took the life of the Duchess. They saw it as great charity and great character. To Arthur it was an escape and he’d had no intention of following his father down that path. Then Uther died, Arthur's life suddenly seemed as empty as his father accused it of being, and he booked a flight to JFK. 

Tonight, he’d relaxed onto his couch, worn grey leather and intoxicatingly comfortable. Arthur now ate as if he never spent years at proper royal functions, selecting appropriate silverware and conversation topics with equal care. With food containers opened and still partially in their plastic bags, he idly flicked on the TV and thought of the huge brown eyes, widened even more with surprise, that greeted him in Room 4218. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

After his foreboding command, Merlin had slipped into the room, closing the door behind him so quickly that he nearly caught the tail of his hospital gown. Arthur stood staring, exhaustion slowing down his natural reactions. He had just processed that once again he was off-put by Merlin and began thinking of how long he had left his laptop idle and unprotected upstairs. 

“Ok, she’s still awake,” Merlin whispered, head peeking out the door, barely opened. “Just maybe say hello, and, um, give her a hug or something…” he trailed off. He looked away just as Arthur saw the tightening of his eyebrows, the beginning of doubt creeping in. 

“Yeah, sure. Of course. Prince Charming, ready to go.” Arthur tried his winning smile, one he hadn’t used since his old life. It was 3am, so he didn’t quite get the 1000 watt result. He hoped it was a solid effort. 

“Umm. Yeah…” Merlin’s whispering dropped to nearly inaudible, his eyes sneaking back up to Arthur’s slowly at first, then snapping to full attention. He gazed a beat too long at his mouth, then sighed, and opened the door in full invitation. 

Arthur was greeted by a very awake, chocolate-skinned girl with tight, dark pixie curls. She sat there cross-legged on her hospital bed, wearing a respiratory mask, and blinked twice when she saw Arthur. She looked behind him, presumably to Merlin. 

“Look who I found, love?,” Merlin offered, his eyes full of assurance. 

“Jason…Jason Jacks?” came a small voice from behind the mask. Her eyes really are impossibly huge, Arthur thought. He nodded, not quite able to bold-face lie to the utter innocent across from him. 

“Where is your Magic Hat of Jumping Jacks?” 

“Oh. Well, it’s- back home. At my home, to keep it safe.” He spared a few brain cells to project annoyance to the overly perky Jason Jacks. Arthur used to be a great liar. Another 800 watt beam. Could a four year old be suspicious?

Gwen nodded, eyes shifting solemn with understanding. “Daddy only does his Magic at home too.” Arthur nodded along with no comprehension of child logic. 

“Is that for me?,” she asked, the IV tubing moving with her arm as she pointed to the Snickers bar in his hand. Arthur looked down, having forgotten about the candy. Right. 

“Oh. Yes! This is for you,” he smiled winningly again and darted a quick glance at Merlin before offering the candy bar. Merlin had moved to sit beside the bed, with eyes only for Gwen. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Gwen,” Arthur added in his regal voice, after she took the candy bar with heartbreaking reverence. “I heard you are four whole years old, and you don’t want to go to bed.” His face is hurting a little from smiling, but surprisingly, it’s not all forced. 

“I do want to go to bed. In MY bed. At home.” The last bit lost all of the force as she looked pitifully over at Merlin. It was unclear to Arthur how Merlin ever said no to her. 

“I’m sure you do. You must really like your room at home?”

“Yes. I like it. It’s pink and yellow.”

“It sounds perfect. Maybe you could show it to me later? I would love to visit.” By this time Arthur had slowly moved into her space, perched on the corner of her kids’ sized hospital bed.

“Daddy says no strangers in the house unless he brings them,” she told him with honest regret. Arthur softly chuckled and was about to respond when she added, “But we know you from TV…so you are not a stranger! Right, Daddy?” She whipped her gaze between them, seeking confirmation of her simple deduction. 

Merlin wrapped a long, warm arm around her small shoulders. 

“Mr. Jacks is very busy, love.” Merlin gently avoided. “He’s come to tuck you in for a good nights sleep. Will you let him?” And Merlin was talking to her, but looking at Arthur, his blue eyes held Arthur’s with intensity and mutual fatigue. Arthur felt his tired, looked at him, wondered - finally - how this pale, lanky, and really quite lovely, man came to be to Gwen all that he clearly was. He nodded along with Merlin’s words.

“That’s right. It is time for all good little girls to go to bed now, Gwen. Can I give you a magic hug goodnight?”

“What’s the magic hug gonna do?” Her eyelids were already drooping. 

“Magic hugs send you sweet dreams.” Arthur moved towards her as her little arms opened in invitation. He gave her a long squeeze and kiss on the forehead, surprising himself with his own tenderness. Gwen sighed and curled into Merlin’s side without another glance to Arthur. 

“Thank. You.” Merlin mouthed, gently patting Gwen’s hair. Arthur simply nodded again in acknowledgement. For no particular rational reason, he hesitated a moment before getting up. Like he could stay there, with the two of them just a little longer. He took a breath, knowing it was time to leave, forcing down the curiosity that wanted to bubble to the surface. 

He nodded again to Merlin and this time accomplished physical movement, up and away from the bed. Sleep had started to creep into Merlin’s eyes as well. He watched Arthur, and, with a small upturn to his mouth, touched his hand to his lips and blew Arthur a small, grateful kiss.  
\---------------------------------------------------- 

Arthur had gone straight home that night, his books, computer, and studying forgotten. He fell into his bed, riding on the calm emanating from his unexpected encounter. The next morning he woke up, too early, and back to reality. Picking back up at his abandoned study post, he slogged through the pharmacology, days and nights blurring. Taking exams felt less celebratory than his classmates seemed to enjoy. He was relieved that it seemed he learned something and found himself in the Children’s Hospital elevators, without much thought. It had been 3 days since he met Merlin and Gwen. He assumed they would be gone. He walked towards the familiar room, not slowing his pace, just to pass by and not admit to himself what he was looking for. 

He sailed past the room and was considering how to double back without throwing off the Code Pink alarms. 

“Hey! Umm..Jason!”

Arthur slowly turned to see Merlin. An awake, quite smart-looking, Merlin, who was walking out of 4218. He was dressed in a slim, fitted dark suit that drew attention to his frame with a measured coolness that took Arthur by surprise. That and the purple tie. 

“I know that’s not your name,” Merlin grinned. “But - I didn’t actually get it, did I?”

Arthur just stared, reconciling this slick, frankly, hot specimen with the man in the hospital gown. 

“It’s Arthur,” he managed. 

“Arthur. Arthur, I have to say Thank you. Again.” Merlin slid out. He had a hand out, but not in a formal-handshake-thank-you-very-much sort of way. He grabbed Arthur’s wrist, tugging gently to bring him inside the room. A quick glance told him Gwen was not there. 

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. I mean, You’re welcome.” Merlin had guided him just inside the door, kind of had him against the wall. The sleepy calm from his last visit was nowhere. Arthur opened his mouth. 

“It’s not every study night that I get blown a kiss.” And immediately shut it. What?

Merlin pinked a little, with a small smile, nodding. Arthur realized Merlin still had fingers wrapped around his wrist. Those tightened, the slightest bit. 

“Yeah, well.” And Merlin leaned in, pressing soft lips to Arthur’s. He hung there for a moment, his thumb making a small circle on the inner soft of Arthur’s wrist. Arthur breathed out tension he didn’t know he had and maybe a small sound of - what, he didn’t know. Merlin heard it, lips curved against his mouth. He moved to press a small peck at the corner, before backing away slowly. 

“I was taught that Prince Charming always ought to get a kiss.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I was taught that Prince Charming always gets a kiss.”

Arthur had sighed out a little chuckle at that, letting his head fall back against the wall, eyes still closed from the kiss. Merlin just - relaxed him. Arthur was in a simple white t-shirt and jeans, dressed comfortably for exams. He kept his eyes closed, still blinded by Merlin’s sleek transformation.

Then, there was a warm cheek pressed against his.

“Gotta run, Arthur,” Merlin softly muttered, next to his ear, warmly. “Gwen thinks you’ve gone to visit SpongeBob, under the sea.”

And with that Merlin shifted to his side and walked quickly out the door.

\------------------------------------------

When he thinks back to that day, it’s not really regret he feels. Sure, he fantasized that he could have gone after Merlin. He could have even run after him, made a bit of scene, maybe gotten really ridiculous and asked for Merlin’s last name. It would probably make for a better story. But no, he doesn’t usually think that. He relives the calm of those moments. He remembers the thrill of Merlin suited up, and the heat he left imprinted on Arthur’s skin. He thinks about that day and remembers that, for the first time since Uther’s death, he felt alive.

\------------------------------------------

That night, instead of tossing a polite “No, thanks.” to an invitation for post-exam celebratory drinks, he simply nodded yes. His classmates stared at him for a second, like it was the first time they were hearing his accent, all over again.

Chris, a physically imposing and generally silent African-American classmate, was the first to recover. “Great man. We’ll be at Jake’s Dilemma, 10ish.”

Arthur met them out - Chris, Sarah, Melanie, and Sam - and didn’t actually have the worse time of his life. He listened, mostly, answering some of the requisite questions - ‘So you really have, like, an estate back in England?.’ That night he felt something, slowly, loosen inside him. Occasionally he laughed, genuinely, and looked away when they stared a beat too long. He bowed out after the second pub, but agreed to drop in on their study session the following week.

Arthur didn’t transform into the royal mascot of the class and certainly didn’t become the epicenter of social life. He did make a few friends though, and through the end of classwork and the next year of hospital duties, he was their 5th wheel, comfortably on the perimeter and happy to belong.

Graduation was a blur that he attended mostly to avoid the awkward silence that would come when his name was called and no exuberant newly-minted physician popped up to accept their degree. He emailed Morgana his official photo, shaking hands with the Dean. When Chris sent him the photo of the five of them, including Arthur pulled in at the last moment, he saved it in an untitled desktop folder. He was smiling in the photo, his absurd graduation hat tipped a bit sideways from the jostling crowds. He didn’t send it to Morgana.

\------------------------------------------

“GWEN! That is *not* a toy shop!”

It was mid Monday morning and Arthur didn’t bother looking up from the chart he was signing as he walked towards the office reception area. It was probably just another kid charging in through the colorful front door, enticed by the bright colors. After spending two months jerking his gaze toward every lithe, brown-haired hipster on the subway (read: thousands) and having his heart race with every uttered “Gwen,” he only had whiplash to show for it. For the last two years and two months, Merlin and Gwen were frozen in time in his memory, and he had stopped thinking of them as real people, as citizens of New York City.

He dropped off the patient’s chart with Wendy and picked up the next. Glancing at the name, he smiled privately in recognition.

“Oh this *can’t* be right,” he groaned, loudly, in exaggeration. “Billy Horn *can’t* be back at the doctor’s office. Wendy, there’s been some mistake.” He gestured broadly, winking to his receptionist and pretended to turn back towards the doorway leading to the exam rooms.

“I’m here! I’m here, Dr. P!,” came a telltale squeaky voice bounding up to him. Small hands tugged at his khaki pants and Arthur gave in and turned with a smile. Billy Horn was a 5-year old devil, with eyeglasses thicker than most adults, and a killer case of asthma. His mother was just behind him. She smiled at Arthur with a hint more than welcome, which he automatically ignored. He passed through the half-size door he had fashioned, so the kids could see over it to the normal looking hallway, instead of dreaming up child torture chambers, or whatever else their imagination could come up with.

“Now Billy, I remember you saying something about how you were never coming back ‘in a zillion years,” Arthur teased. Billy just smiled and walked behind him to the exam room. In fact, the slightly plump child had said just that and more, after Arthur had unceremoniously injected him with an epinephrine shot during a severe asthma attack. Arthur had to send him straight to the Children’s Hospital and Billy had essentially screamed bloody murder while being wheeled out of Arthur’s office by the paramedics. It was just another calm Friday at Dr. Pendragon’s Pediatric Asthma & Allergy Clinic.

He finished up with Billy fairly quickly, taking time to explain to his mother that his weight gain would probably continue while he was on the steroids to control his asthma, but it would be temporary. After pointing them back in the direction of the reception area, he was stopped by Mrs. Halden before he could grab a quick bottled water from his office.

“Dr. P. You have visitors.” Her face was inscrutable, save for one arched eyebrow.

“Mrs. Halden, we always have visitors. They are usually under 4 feet and allergic to something.”

She smirked, not willing to pay him off with a true smile.

“I put them in your office.” Now Arthur raised his eyebrows.

“Why? Are they VIP or something? You know I can’t tolerate that nonsense.”

Mrs. Halden shrugged with nonchalance. Or Arthur thought it was nonchalance.

“He says he knows you. She says she is looking for dragons.” And with that illogic, she turned and headed back to the triage room. Arthur was about to ask more, but she was already calling out to a set a twins.

“Kelly and Kimmi, stop raiding my sticker drawer!”

\------------------------------------------

Arthur stepped into the doorway of his office. There were bare, skinny legs dangling from the chair across from his desk, capped off with hot pink tennis shoes. Staring from behind, Arthur couldn’t see anymore of her, other than dark curls, poking out of the wooden slats, about half way up the chair’s back. It looked like she may have been holding a book. He - _Merlin_ \- Arthur’s mind breathed, not quite yet believing, was squatted in a red, plastic chair, clearly meant for kids. His gaze was on Gwen, who, with their present configuration, was about at his eye level. Gwen was reading to him.

“Puff…is…a…good… dra-gon. Puff…is a…fur…fri…”

“Friendly,” Merlin gently supplied.

“..fur-end.lee..dra-gon!”

Merlin grinned at her. Arthur had now breathed in and out enough times to realize they were real. And in his office. He cleared his throat. Merlin whipped his head around and met his eyes. Yes, Arthur’s mind confirmed. They really were that blue.

“Hi. Merlin.”

Merlin inclined his head and replied, “Dr. Pendragon,” formally, teasing. Arthur felt the smile rising on his face, matching Merlin’s own. They held there for a moment, just smiling until Gwen noticed that she’d lost her audience.

“Daddy. Daddy! What’s this word?”

At that, Arthur started to move, heading slowly towards his desk. He came around to face the two of them head on. Merlin’s eyes were on him, and he could feel the flush creeping up his collar. He’d dressed in the standard pediatrician uniform: khaki pants, a blue dress shirt, and some sort of cartoon tie. Today it was Daffy Duck. Merlin was wearing a black, long-sleeved jersey tee, worn at the edges. He had on gray, faded jeans and converse sneakers that would normally make Arthur roll his eyes. His hair was cropped a bit shorter than when Arthur saw him last.

He looked incredible.

Arthur sat down behind his desk and focused on Gwen, leaning away from Merlin’s draw for the moment.

“Hi there, Gwen, right?,” Arthur started. He noticed his hands folded on the desk, striking a silly note of formality considering the scene. He felt self-conscious, but didn’t move them.

“Yes. My name is Gwen and I am six years old.” She informed him in one breath. He nodded. He didn’t really expect her to remember him, half-asleep, from years ago. Jason Cole had, thankfully, gone off air not long after they first met, or eons ago, to a child.

“I heard you are looking for dragons?” Arthur smiled gently at her, admiring the same huge brown eyes, now a bit more in place on her growing face. She was lanky and looked to be mid-growth spurt, arms and legs kind of awkwardly outgrowing her frame. She had on a white and pink polka-dot dress, with yellow hair bows - a burst of color sitting next to the monochromatic Merlin. Together they could have been a Benneton advertisement.

“Yes! There is a big dragon on the door. And Daddy said this is " _not a shop_ ”, but the other kids said you were a dragon doctor.” She imitated Merlin without a thought and clutched her _Puff the Magic Dragon_ book in her hands. Arthur thought of the giant green cartoon dragon Mrs. Halden had put on the door. He had protested saying that there was no use trying to obscure the fact that Dr. Pendragon’s Asthma  & Allergy Clinic was in fact a doctor’s office. She had not dignified him with a response.

“Yes. Well, my name is Dr. Pendragon. I take care of kids like you though, not dragons.”

Gwen stared at him patiently.

“So,” Arthur added, “I’m afraid there are no dragons here.” She heaved a little sigh and nodded knowingly.

“They said at the museum that all the dragons were gone.”

“Yes, they are.” He felt brave enough, at that point, to look over at Merlin, who, of course, was staring at him. It was like the man had no intensity modulation.

Although extremely similar in nature, Arthur was not 100% the recluse he once was when he first met Merlin. Convincing himself of this, he cleared his throat and called out to Mrs. Halden. When she popped immediately into the doorway, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Nurse Halden. I know you must be busy caring for needy children…’ He paused. She looked back unashamedly. “But could you please show Gwen to our sticker drawer. I think there is a green dragon with her name on it.”

At that, Gwen bounced up, off of the chair, and out the door.

Arthur smiled after her and looked obliquely at Merlin, courage spent. He was nervous, of course. And there was another thrumming feeling he couldn’t identify. He heard Merlin sigh.

“I remember when she was once afraid to go anywhere without me. Now she’s cheaply bought off with a dragon sticker.” Merlin then groaned a bit, elevating and shifting to the more appropriate chair. His torso was bared for just a moment in the movement. Arthur felt ridiculous behind his desk.

“So. Arthur…Pendragon.”

“Merlin…?”

“Emyrs.” Arthur was starting to get used to that fact that Merlin didn’t know how to communicate without either matching his eyes magnetically to Arthur’s or staring at his mouth for so long that Arthur had to tighten his lips together, to prevent from licking them.

He nodded, delayed, and stood up, without a plan. Merlin followed suit, and they stood together, at the corner of the desk. Arthur remembered now, that he was taller than Merlin, but barely. He remembered Merlin’s long eyelashes, and how his lips seemed impossibly full and inviting when up close. His mind was headed towards its next pit stop, imagining those lips on his again, adding in a hand easing up his thigh. Arthur was full on blushing at this point. He would do anything to keep from sprouting an obvious erection in the middle of his pediatric clinic.

“So you live in the city?,” he rasped out, his hands shoved in his pockets.

Merlin nodded. “Yeah. We live in Brooklyn.”

“Are you her biological father?”

“No. She was abandoned in my apartment building. No one ever came for her, so I adopted her.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a tattoo artist.”

Arthur blinked. Unexpected. Because he had spent years in school, his mind immediately thought ' _Hepatitis C, HIV, and/or Chronic Dermatitis, Not Good_ ’. Because he was a human who had seen more than one sample of well-done, well-placed body art, his cock thought ‘ _Hot, Hot, Hot, Hot, Hot, Hot_ ’.

“…”

“-Kidding,” Merlin added, and grinned. And that thing in Arthur, that thick coil that had held his back straight and heart immobile, that anchor that had stirred and slipped slightly when he first met Merlin, that binding rope that had relaxed a bit and given him space to breathe and make friends after their fateful meeting -- that thing that bound him, that held him, unraveled.

Arthur felt loosed and brave. He rolled his eyes, smirked, and leaned in, shifting his stance towards Merlin, who was forced to sit back, perched on the desk’s edge. Arthur kept moving forward, hands dropping to the desk, on either side of Merlin’s slim hips. Merlin’s eyes flashed as he let out a breath of surprise. He moved his left hand slowly, his index finger catching Arthur’s belt loop.

“I fix things.” Merlin husked, his voice losing the sing-song teasing for the first time. He tugged Arthur further forward, shifting his own legs apart, letting Arthur closer.

“What kinds of things?,” Arthur breathed. Objectively his pulse was probably up, his palms were likely sweaty, and his pupils definitely looked drugged in that really good way. His legs were warm where Merlin’s thighs rested against them. Merlin reached up and palmed the side of Arthur’s neck, fingers curling around, just brushing his hairline. He tugged him forward again.

“All kinds of things.”

Their lips met in a hot, solid press before Merlin, gently shifting Arthur with his palm, slotted their mouths together in alignment. He slipped his tongue in Arthur’s mouth and Arthur groaned, falling fully against him, the bulge in his pants rubbing Merlin’s thigh. Merlin hummed in encouragement, letting his legs fall further apart. His left hand came around Arthur’s back, splayed out like a brand. Arthur breathed into Merlin, allowing himself to be held, his grip firm on the desk. Merlin kissed him like they were old lovers -savoring and unhurried. The slick, wet sounds of Merlin licking into his mouth and sucking on his lips surfaced in Arthur’s mind, and made him pull back, finally. He pecked Merlin’s jaw in apology, resting their foreheads together while catching his breath.

“Merlin…what. Why are you here?,” Arthur managed.

Merlin chuckled warmly. “Fulfilling a 2 year old fantasy, apparently.”

Arthur stood up further, reluctantly putting more space between them.

“Two years and you only made it to first base?” Happy. That was the feeling, Arthur supposed. Happy.

Merlin bared his teeth, smile wide and goofy. His eyes were dancing. He gave Arthur a slow, thorough once over, and didn’t reply. At least not directly.

“When can I see you again, Dr. Pendragon?” The formal address added after a slight pause, his voice dropping.

“DADDY!!! Can I have an allergy?!”

Gwen bounded in, passing obliviously by Arthur, to grab Merlin’s hand.

“All of the kids here have one. Ben has peanuts, and Kelly has milk, and Kimmi also has milk, and Danny has lots. Ben can’t eat peanut butter! Do I have one??”

Merlin spared no time, refocused on Gwen in a heartbeat. Arthur automatically stepped back, sitting behind the desk and willed his body temperature back into normal range. Merlin had dropped from the desk to floor, listening to Gwen intently.

“No honey, but you do have a lot of stickers, don’t you?” She had perhaps seven total stickers decorating her dress, including one on either of her smooth chocolate cheeks. Arthur realized with a start that she also had the entire sticker roll in hand. He thought of Mrs. Halden’s stern sticker rationing program, and looked at this six-year-old genie with new awe. Perhaps Gwen could take up a cause for him.

“I think we’ve finished our visit here, love. Can you say thank you to Dr. P?”

“Thank you Dr. P.” She smiled, showing off some missing teeth and Arthur died a little inside.

“You are very welcome,” was all he could manage. Merlin stood and paused, eyes asking Arthur a silent question.

“Oh! And umm, yes.” Arthur grabbed a business card and scratched his cell phone number on the back side. He stood and held it out to Merlin, who slid it into his front pocket in a way that was Not Sexy At All.

“See you, then.”

“See you.”

Merlin and Gwen left, waltzing out as quickly as they appeared. Arthur sunk against the desk, the hard bite of the corner triggering the mental images of what had transpired moments before. He scoffed at himself, shaking his head to clear it. As he took a couple of more deep breaths, he felt composition returning, and headed back towards the exam rooms. He could not remember which child was next to be seen and tried not to feel embarrassed about that.

“Danny Locke, 5 years old, cats.” Mrs. Halden slapped a chart into his hands with a straight face. He nodded gratefully, about to thank her.

“And please go splash some cold water on your face and wherever else. If his nanny thinks that she put that look on you, she’ll be smearing the poor kid with cat dander in a heartbeat.”  
\------------------------------------------


	3. Chapter 3

iPhone SMS:

“arthur? it’s merlin”  
“Yes, Hi. It’s me.”  
“lovely. :) gwen’s got ballet lessons sat 11 - 12p. you free?”  
“Yes. Where?”  
“55th and 6ave. will meet you in front of studio.”  
“Ok.”  
“ok. :)”

\---------------------------------------

The rest of Arthur’s week was mostly a blur of the strikingly routine. He finished up seeing Monday’s patients with his dignity relatively intact. Tuesday and Wednesdays were full clinic days, Thursdays he spent his half-day catching up on paperwork and the other half methodically going through research journals, keeping abreast of any important updates. On Friday mornings, he usually visited any patients he had admitted to Children’s Memorial and did a few odious allergen testing appointments in the afternoon. And then there was his Friday night clinic session.

He now kept the clinic doors open through the evening, mostly on account of the young cashier at the Rite Aid next door to him. In his second month working, she had cornered him as he was leaving on a Friday afternoon. Unceremoniously taking a last long drag of her cigarette, she had stamped it out in front of him. She stuck her hands into the ridiculously bright red vest they made all employees wear, cleared her throat but wouldn’t meet his eyes. Her long, dark hair was tied back in a severe ponytail and when she looked off to the side, she bore a tightened jaw and lined face that aged some of the youth out of her. She had asked him exactly when he thought she could bring her Natalie by for a check-up when he opened after she got to work and closed before her shift ended. Before Arthur could mutter a response about perhaps choosing another office where *smoking* around children with *allergies* would be allowed, she turned and stalked back into the drug store. The following Friday though, Arthur read the three main pediatric allergy journals cover to cover, then went on to the adult literature to be thorough, and tried to pretend he was truly interested in the crossover field of parasitic immunology. A little after 6 o’clock, there was a tapping at the door, and Arthur ventured from his back office to find her again, red-vested, sans cigarette, plus 5 year old girl. Her scratched up name badge said “Mandy.”

“This is Natalie.”

Arthur nodded. “Ok, why don’t you both come in?”

He brought them in as if they had an appointment, registered little Natalie, took her vitals, and got her up on the exam table with a calm competence that would have ruined his staff’s fantasy of him as a wonderful but bumbling office doc. He listened to Natalie’s lungs, heard her wheezes, and gave them a prescription for an albuterol inhaler.

“This is going to help her. What would help more is to keep her away from cigarette smoke.”

Mandy nodded, her whip-cord body a ball of tension.

“I know. I’m. trying.”

Arthur just nodded. He gestured towards the prescription she now held. “That is going to be about forty-five doll-“

“I can afford it. We’re fine.”

“Ok.” He didn’t mention any bill for the visit, and neither did she. He gave Natalie a green dragon sticker and they left. He wasn’t sure what to expect the next Friday, but brought journals, a new pulp fiction mystery thriller he’d been eyeing and a granola bar. He saw two more young moms with their kids that night. And that was how his free Friday night clinic started. They were mostly single moms, mostly young, and mostly nicer than Mandy. He didn’t actually ever tell his day staff about it, but Ms. Halden started adding to their monthly supply orders and left him a note one Friday afternoon: “Please put Free Friday patient charts here. I will follow up on labs. -H.”

Tonight, the Friday night before his date with Merlin, he only had 2 drop-ins. One was Mandy. From what he could gather from the nicotine patch peeking out from her sleeve, she was at least cutting back on her smoking. Her customary Rite Aid vest had been replaced with a Starbucks-green collared shirt. Though she rarely invited any small talk, Arthur asked anyway.

“So you changed jobs, then?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I got fired.”

As usual her candor was off-putting and Arthur didn’t respond.

“They caught me stealing. Let me go without calling the cops, so. Whatever.”

“Right.” Arthur said. “Well, I hope that you can…avoid that at the new job.”

She shrugged again. “Yeah they don’t sell these nic patches at Starbucks so I should be good.”

Right.

When Arthur looked up at her, he thought that maybe she was almost smiling.

“Two weeks, Dr. P.” She looked him in the eye. “I think. I think I can do it.”

Arthur kind of nodded and shook his head at the same time, putting moral ambiguity aside.

“That’s great, Mandy. I think you can too.”

And so Arthur went home that night feeling kind of on top of the world. He got an extra samosa with his take-out from Kismat and even texted Chris to see if the usual suspects were meeting up for drinks. Chris gave Arthur the usual crap about how they never see him and sent their location anyway. Arthur met up with them and squeezed in as the 5th into their booth. After a warm round of “Hey Arthur!”s, they went back to the lively discussion of whether theoretical Kardashian offspring would be cuter with Anderson Cooper or Will Smith as the sperm donor. Arthur melted into their background, silently affirming Sam and Melanie’s votes for Anderson. They loved talking about such inanity. Chris had turned into an orthopedic surgeon, Sam was an infectious disease specialist, Melanie was the second-ever female nuerosurgeon at New York Presbyterian Hospital, and Sarah had completely sold out and was making more than all of them combined at a health care consulting firm. They used to have a rule in medical school about leaving the studying and stress out of the bar. The rule continued.

“So Arthur, any hot moms strolling into Dr. Pendragon’s allergy clinic recently ?,” Sam teased.

“C’mon Sam. You know he doesn’t mix business and pleasure,” from Chris.

“Or pleasure and pleasure ?,” added Melaine, who was sitting next to Arthur and nudged him with a smile.

“Well, the last time it happened, we had to switch bars because that poor guy wouldn’t stop stalking us,” Sarah dryly reminded the group.

Arthur blushed a little at that. It was not like he was celibate _per se_ , he just didn’t go out much, and when he did, he didn’t pursue much either. Or at all. Which didn’t mean he wasn’t pursued. Most of the time, when Arthur was approached by women and men, he was polite, and sometimes even enjoyed a few minutes of conversation, and then there would be some innocuous question about his past, and he would politely bow out. Since he never went out alone, it was easy to blend back into his group.

And then there were the few times he didn’t.

Once, when they were celebrating Chris’ birthday at bar #4 of the night, Sam had declared Hobbit Rules of Gifting, and gifts were to be kisses and somehow that turned into everyone having to kiss a stranger. Arthur picked a kind of mousy-looking woman, with throw-back horned rimmed glasses and a tattooed sleeve down her left arm. With alcohol-inspired confidence, he interrupted her conversation with what was hopefully a platonic friend and explained his need to gift her a kiss. When she agreed he bent down and kissed her lips open, tasted the inside of her cheek and the roof of her mouth, ran a hand down the flower motif inked on her arm, and pulled back with a polite thanks. “Holy Fuck,” was all Arthur heard as he walked away. His friends had kind of stared as he re-joined them and Melanie said something about that answering the asexual question. He jerked off twice that night.

Another time, it was when they were out dancing, which meant Arthur was posted comfortably against a wall, watching. The club was barely lit enough to see the drink in front of his hand, but he saw the slim man with dark hair making eyes at him anyway. As the man walked over, Arthur noted that his eyes were brown, and not blue, but let him slide up against Arthur’s side anyway. Surrounded by the loud beat and relative darkness, he boldly licked a stripe up Arthur’s neck, and Arthur groaned and just let it happen. They kissed and rubbed against each other for long enough for Arthur to lose track of time. There was an insistent palm running along his cock, through his jeans, when Chris’s deep timbre echoed in his ear.

“Not trying to screw your vibe man, but we’re leaving. You staying?” That was enough of a reality check for Arthur. He left with an apologetic smile and woke up the next morning, sticky, with Merlin’s name on his lips.

Tonight he let his friends’ banter wash over him, enjoying the company, and keeping his date with Merlin to himself.

\-----------------------------------------------------

On Saturday morning, Arthur kept his routine of a long run in Central Park, followed by a pick-up basketball game at his gym if enough of the usual guys were around. He then did a tour through the Whole Foods on 97th, grabbing enough for breakfasts and snacks for the week, before the crowds got to him and he had to leave. He dressed in blue jeans and a simple white t-shirt to meet Merlin.

Getting out of his cab, Arthur realized that Gwen’s ‘dance studio,' as Merlin quaintly referred to it, was actually _The Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater_ studio. He never considered they possiblity of children’s classes there. The building was lovely, and one he’d admired before. It had large glass doors, and open glass wall studios going up six stories, like an angular fishbowl with colorful people leaping about. He took a moment to admire the gorgeous figures strolling around, professional dancers in a world completely different from his own. He slipped in between them and into the building.

Merlin and Gwen were standing at the reception desk. Gwen was in pink tights with a black leotard and a small, pink tutu. She held Merlin’s hand but was clearly eager to get to join the press of small people in identical uniforms that were filing into one of the interior studios. Merlin was chatting with the man behind the desk and signing something. As Arthur got closer he heard Merlin’s voice.

“Yes, well anytime. Again, you know I’ll be happy to help.”

Like apparently everyone here, the man was gorgeous - a bronze, bald, perfect specimen - and he beamed back at Merlin. Arthur unconsciously stopped his approach, wondering about who Merlin was, exactly. Merlin - who may flirt and kiss and molest most men he met in New York City. Arthur watched them, but was lost in his own thoughts when Merlin finally let Gwen go and turned to see him.

“Arthur,” he smiled and walked right over. He ignored Arthur’s blank stare and the unwelcoming hands shoved in his pockets and hugged him warmly.

“I’m glad you came,” he murmured in Arthur’s ear, before letting go.

Arthur unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

“Yeah. You said, coffee shop?,” he managed, taking a step away.

Merlin nodded, quietly stepping back, and led them to a cafe down the block. Merlin ordered a chocolaty, syrupy, sugary concoction only vaguely resembling coffee and Arthur, who was still unable to form any coherent thoughts, got a bottle water. They sat at a small table in the back corner.

“So what do you ‘fix’, exactly?” It came out harsher than Arthur intended. He couldn’t shake his guard. It was familiar, the combination of detached and direct that kept most of his conversations with people short. He watched his bottled water, struggling to crack open and find the easy he usually had with Merlin.

Merlin nodded, though, and looked relieved that Arthur had broken the silence.

“Well, I’m the official repairman for our building. So I fix blown electrical outlets, shaky deadbolts, that kind of stuff.”

Arthur frowned. “I didn’t know that kind of job still existed in the year 2013.”

“Well,” Merlin drew out, “I am very good at it.” He grinned, his voice a teasing cadence. Arthur raised his eyebrows and felt himself thaw, a little bit. 

“Anyway, that’s how it all started out,” Merlin continued. “I started helping neighbors out with repairs - usually after they hired someone who couldn’t get it done. So the building management hired me. And then, word kind of spread, and now I also work outside the building for hire.” He paused, and stared at Arthur for a beat.

“For example, that guy at the studio - Mark - he’s a client. Every time his toilet flushed, it shorted out all of his kitchen appliances. Very odd, no one could fix it. So he called me.”

“And you fixed it ?,” Arthur asked.

“Yeah,” Merlin nodded. “And he was grateful. Told me I could bring Gwen by for dance classes anytime, no charge.” He stared at Arthur, per usual, who met his eyes, finally.

It was easier after that. For one, Merlin didn’t ask him any questions about his past. He asked Merlin more about his handy-man-for-hire situation. Merlin had an endless supply of funny stories, and odd repairs, but didn’t say much about how he actually fixed anything. After chuckling together quietly for awhile, Arthur asked about his training. Merlin mentioned something about inborn talent, and changed the subject quite decisively.

“I really want to kiss you again, Arthur.”

Arthur swallowed. Both of their drinks were long finished and though he hadn’t checked for certain, he was sure their hour was almost up.

“Then why do you keep insisting we meet in public?,” Arthur ventured.

“Because I don’t want to scare you away.”

“You don’t seem so scary to me,” Arthur lied.

Merlin smiled, wide and bright, at that. And, as he was focused on the sheer blue and beauty of that sight, Arthur, finally, smiled too. He nodded yes when Merlin offered a dinner date the following night. Merlin explained that Gwen would be out to her grandmother’s for the night and Arthur pretended to keep his cool. When they stood up to leave, Merlin didn’t hug or kiss or touch him at all. He leaned in and whispered something, and was out the door, leaving Arthur warm, and happy, and terrified.

“You are quite beautiful when you smile.”


	4. Chapter 4

The following Sunday night, Arthur stalked quickly up to Merlin’s building, cursing the series of unfortunate events that had made him late. He buzzed up to Merlin’s flat, prepared to apologize via intercom, but instead the door was immediately unlocked. Merlin lived on the 3rd floor, and after a cursory look at the inside of the elevator, Arthur re-directed quickly to the stairs. Apartment 3F, his text had said. He got to the door, and took a steadying breath. He smoothed down the front of his white polo shirt, rather unnecessarily, as he’d ironed that, his navy jeans, and his socks a few hours before. At the last minute, he’d added his black leather jacket in deference to the chilly spring night. And it was possible he’d showered twice.

Arthur knocked and the door swished open. Merlin stood there, in the grey jeans Arthur had seen him in before, and a deep blue v-necked t-shirt. He must have showered too, because his hair was still wet, with strands falling at random intervals along his forehead. He was barefoot.

“I’m sorry I’m la--“ Arthur started, but was interrupted by Merlin ushering him inside.

The door closed behind him and Merlin got right into his personal space. He put his hands on Arthur’s waist and leaned in.

“Arthur, I really want to hear all about it. I want to know why you are 20 minutes late when I suspect you to be pathologically on-time. I want to know if you actually ironed creases into your jeans or if you just have no idea what you are doing. Mostly, I want to know why Sir Arthur Pendragon, Duke of Essex, Heir to Some Massive Royal Fortune who should be cavorting on yachts, screwing models, and attending the occasional charity ball, is living an apparently solitary life as the sweetest pediatrician in Manhattan.” Merlin paused. Arthur’s back was against the door, both of his hands having come up to grasp Merlin high up on his arms, bracing himself. He was panicky from Merlin’s words and hot from his intensity, from how close he was, and how much Arthur just wanted to say YES.

“I want to know what happened to your father," he added, quietly. "And what happened to you.” Merlin hands had come to rest on Arthur’s belt buckle. He broke his gaze with Arthur, coming in close enough to lean his forehead against his. Merlin pressed the heel of his hand against the seam on Arthur’s jeans, and the breath rushed out of Arthur’s open mouth.

“But right now,” Merlin licked his bottom lip, in a lazy way that belied the insistence with which he held Arthur. “If you don't let me blow you, I may just die.” 

Arthur blinked in surprise and wondered why he felt so safe with this man. Merlin constantly shocked him, showing up in his life unannounced, sailing past Arthur’s defenses and right into his messy, needy core. Merlin had left him at the café without a touch and Arthur had prickled with the anticipation of getting to feel Merlin’s lips on his again. He had hoped meeting at Merlin’s place would mean they would kiss, this time without the threat of instant public exposure. That thought alone had made him nervous and excited. Now Merlin’s words stoked that heat inside of Arthur, pushing him into another layer of want, and Arthur could do nothing but moan.

He tilted his chin up to meet Merlin’s mouth, surrendering to this full on assault. They tasted each other, their tongues tangling, and messy. Merlin’s hand pushed against Arthur’s cock again and he broke away, resting his head against Arthur’s shoulder - waiting. Arthur kept his own eyes shut, hands trembling when he realized Merlin was waiting for an answer. He gave Merlin’s shoulders a squeeze, and gently, but firmly, pushed him down.

In that strange interlude of anticipation, as Arthur felt Merlin sinking to his knees, felt his belt being undone and his zipper moving down, he spared a look into the apartment. It was cluttered with kid things - colorful, oversized books strewn about and Crayola art posted up on the walls. He scanned past the kitchen where some dish was sitting on the counter to the small table and chairs just steps from the doorway. Merlin had set the table for two and had a few small candles burning. He thought about what it would be like to belong here, to come home to clutter, and stuffed animals, and Merlin and Gwen, and life.

Then his cock was in Merlin’s hands, and soon thereafter, his mouth, and Arthur couldn’t think of anything else at all. He slid a hand through Merlin’s hair and held tight, his head dropping back against the door. Merlin took the long way around, licking stripes up and down his penis, tonguing the head lightly, and massaging his balls. Every touch was fire on Arthur’s skin. He moaned, and breathed harshly, occasionally pulling on Merlin's hair when he couldn’t help it. He dared to look down at Merlin and saw his closed eyes, the flush on his face, and his hollowed out cheeks, sucking Arthur with tenderness and abandon.

“God, is this real?” Arthur muttered, startling himself as he voiced the thought out loud.

Merlin’s eyes flashed up to his and Arthur froze at the tendrils of orange-yellow flame he saw there. Merlin groaned, and kind of melted, and with his hand like a vise grip on Arthur’s hip, took him down whole. Arthur’s groan joined his, and after a few blissed out moments, he came, hips stuttering, still in Merlin’s grasp.

Arthur’s face burned while Merlin kissed him gently, licked him clean and put him back together. Merlin unselfconsciously wiped his mouth on his sleeve, licking his lips and stood up, grabbing both of Arthur’s hands.

“Did that feel real?” Merlin smiled at him, voice a little hoarse, not teasing.

Arthur nodded, not having the wherewithal to put everything he wanted to tell Merlin at once into anything coherent. He pulled Merlin into a fierce hug instead. Merlin went gladly, squeezing him back with a quiet “Me too” mouthed back to him. Arthur felt a fine shudder at that and reached down, wanting to show Merlin what he couldn’t yet say. Merlin stopped him though, shaking his head, with more redness overriding the flush already on his face. Arthur looked at him questioningly.

“I, umm, already took care of me, “ Merlin said sheepishly. “Right before you arrived.”

“Oh..” Arthur mumbled, feeling what he thought was maybe a twinge of disappointment. He took in Merlin’s wet hair again, and thought about him touching himself, in anticipation of Arthur, and felt hot and flushed all over again. As usual Merlin made him brave, and he stepped out again.

“Well ok. Maybe next time I’ll get to return the favor? , “ Arthur asked, smiling, lightly. Merlin nodded assent, and grinned up at him.

“And the time after that, and the time after that…” he confirmed.

They ate, and talked, and it was easy and Arthur stopped questioning it. After dinner, Merlin gave him ‘The Royal Tour’ with a smirk, and showed off Gwen’s purple and green dragon room, the art corner in the living room he’d fashioned out of old couch cushions, their tiny balcony that fit a Gwen-size table and chairs, which currently held several stuffed animals for tea, and Merlin’s bedroom. It was simple, and rather sparse, compared to rest of what Arthur had seen. Merlin had a simple bed with white sheets, a gray, very battered looking couch chair near the window, and a single dresser. There was a black and white picture of him holding what had to be a baby Gwen, wrapped in a blanket. He was sitting on the steps of their building and looking at the camera like there was nothing more he needed in life.

Arthur walked into the room, past Merlin. He held the photo and Merlin stood quietly in the doorway.

“My father died while I was playing poker.” Arthur started.

He turned and sat on the edge of Merlin’s bed, still staring at the photo. The words came, dry and heavy in Arthur's mouth. He told Merlin about how he had been in Spain, doing nothing – gambling, partying, the usual. When Morgana had called him, saying something was wrong with Uther, he blew her off. There was always some reason his father wanted him to come back. Some important charity person, some other speech on how Arthur could “be more active,” how he could "contribute." Arthur spat out the last word like a curse, lost in his memories. He looked over to Merlin who moved into the room and sat down gingerly beside him.

He tried not to wince at his own shame as he explained.

“The thing is - I didn’t believe Uther gave a damn about me. I’d go to these events, and everyone would tell me what a saint he was, how he worked so hard for others, how lucky I was to have such a father.” Arthur shook his head. “I couldn’t even recognize who they were talking about.”

Uther was this man who stared at him in fear until he was about ten years old, and then in disappointment every year after that. None of this mattered, none of it changed what Arthur had done, but he needed Merlin to hear it.

He finally put the photo of Merlin and Gwen down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, needing space from Merlin for the next part. He explained, with increasingly clipped words and lower tones, how he’d stayed out that first night, gambling away more of Uther’s money and ignoring Morgana’s messages. She had stopped calling and he pretended not to be worried. To prove it to himself, he had hung around Barcelona for three more days, before flying back home.

“When I arrived, they told me my father had been dead for two days. That he’d asked for me, and waited, and waited.”

Arthur hung his head as the familiar guilt washed over him, tasting the bitterness of it at the back of his throat.  This is where it stopped, where his life had stopped. He had looked at Uthur’s corpse, eyes dry, doubling down on his guilt for his lack of tears, and feeling like he wasn’t worthy of them anyway. He could have been angry with his father for keeping the leukemia a secret, but the most base voice in him wondered if that would have made any difference. It was pathetic, it was obvious, and tragically clichéd, but there it was. His father died, and Arthur had finally realized that his entire life was about him, about not being him.

Arthur sat in the silence that surrounded them. He had wanted to tell Merlin, he had wanted to speak this and put it somewhere outside of him. But now, with the words, and the bitterness, he felt regret creeping in. Merlin had made this cocoon for him, this world where he really was only Dr. P, and made it safe and without demand. He thought that was what he wanted and needed – a new life, an erasure of the past. That was until tonight, when Merlin had assaulted him with his dangerous questions and a blinding orgasm and Arthur felt broken open and suddenly, desperately, wanted to be known. He swallowed, trying to move out of the shame, and sneaked a glance at Merlin.

His unblinking eyes met Arthur’s, and he had apparently just been waiting for an in, because he pulled Arthur into his arms, kissing him quickly and squeezing him close.  He murmured to the top of Arthur’s head.

“And so you came to America to become Dr. Pendragon, kid whisperer.” Arthur swallowed, again, and speaking, he went all in.

“Sir Arthur Pendragon – who killed his mother in childbirth, neglected his father on his deathbed. Paragon of humanity.”

Merlin muffled a sound of protest and squeezed even tighter. Arthur didn’t know what he wanted to hear, but he couldn’t imagine anything that wouldn’t make him want to leave. He felt the tension rising and thought about just thanking Merlin and being off to rebuild his shell.

But Merlin didn’t say anything and Arthur didn’t go. He tilted up Arthur’s chin, held his face in hands, and kissed him. Arthur, still in his black thoughts, went easily when he pushed him to lie down on the bed. Merlin got on top of him, wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed and kissed and kissed him. He licked warmth at his lips and sucked at his tongue in acceptance until Arthur forgot the next horrible thing he wanted to say. Arthur relaxed again, moaning, and eventually reached out to wrap his arms around Merlin in return. It was then that Merlin stopped, finally, pulling back to look at Arthur, and spoke.

“Arthur Pendragon. ,” he said firmly, blue eyes boring in Arthur’s. “Wonderful doctor, kind to strangers, lovely with children--.” Arthur looked away, unable to bear the adoration. He felt Merlin’s hands sliding up under the hem of his shirt.

“…with a body I want to lick all over --“ Arthur groaned, and moved, to help Merlin to get his shirt up and off.

“…a mouth that inspires fantasy--" Arthur's lips softened under Merlin's sweet kiss.

"...a smile that won’t get out of my head…”

And, wondrously, Arthur smiled, completely unable to stop it. Merlin grinned back and bent his mouth down to Arthur’s nipples. He swiped at each one, and shot a hand down, encountering Arthur’s erection with a satisfied look.

“..and a cock I hope to God he will bury inside me in short order.” God.

“Yeah ?,” Arthur asked, and hoped it was voiced out loud. Merlin just smiled, and started taking off his own shirt. 

“Yes,” Arthur answered for himself. ”Yes, definitely, yes,” and surged up to tackle Merlin and finish the shirt-divesting himself. Merlin wanted him, inexplicably wanted all of him. Arthur was saying yes. And he wanted Merlin to know it.

He moved Merlin beneath him, silently delighting at how light he was to toss around.  Merlin had shown him how to want again, made him want to move and act and claim it. He wanted to say Yes in everyway he knew how. He thought about getting Merlin naked, immediately, and did that in short order, following suit himself. He lay down against him, Merlin’s wrists bound in his right hand and stretched above his head. Arthur kissed his assent into Merlin’s mouth, pushing and licking and moaning, as Merlin took it all and spread his legs, rubbing himself against Arthur’s thigh.

Arthur was still conscious enough to realize that they needed to pause soon, or this would be over before he could honor Merlin’s request. He shifted up, to look at Merlin, to ask again, to be sure, and saw those flames in his eyes. Merlin was still stretched out, slack-jawed, and moaning, while humping his cock against Arthur’s leg. He decided the questions could wait. He was moving his mouth to Merlin’s cock, considering where mysterious handymen kept their lube, when his cell rang.

Arthur’s cell never rang. His friends rarely contacted him. And when they did, they texted him - universally. Mrs. Halden had not used the phone number he’d given her for emergency purposes in two years. He had thankfully never gotten the dreaded call from Children’s Memorial - notification of patient death - since he started out on his own. It might have been because it never rang, because Arthur had never moved from being infatuated with his phone to singularly hating it for all the interruptions, that he, tonight, without thinking, moved off of Merlin and answered.

“Arthur Pendragon, Duke of Essex, I am standing outside of your filthy pathetic excuse for a domicile and I swear to everything that is holy if you do not present yourself immediately, I will seek you out with the vengeance of a thousand suns,” came Morgana’s voice - preternaturally calm, certain, and sure.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur blinked a few times, in a haze of sex, and arousal, and Merlin’s skin and Morgana’s voice. With every word that came through his ear, the reality of Morgana on the other line took hold. He was still stretched out above Merlin, leaning on one elbow with his cell in the other hand, when said offensive piece of technology sizzled warmly, the line cutting off abruptly. Arthur was not exactly sure what he would have said in response, but the sudden silence made him shake the phone a bit, muttering a ‘hello’ into the dead plastic square. He looking down at it, pushing a few buttons in rapid succession, and when the blank screened remained blank, something slotted into place in his mind. He slowly, returned his gaze to Merlin, not sure what to wonder, but wondering it just the same. 

Merlin did not seem to even try to hide himself, clearly holding his focus on the phone, the yellow flames swirling within his irises for several moments. When he seemed satisfied, Merlin looked back at Arthur, sheepish but unapologetic, and suddenly all of that heat and intensity was focused back on him. Arthur burned under his gaze, letting out a harsh breath of astonishment. The cell dropped from his hand as he leaned down again to press a searing kiss on Merlin’s lips. Something told Arthur that his phone would never turn on again and for a few seconds he didn’t care. Merlin was warm and exciting and funny and lovely, and, apparently, _magic_. Arthur wanted to drown in him. 

Merlin groaned, lower and darker than before, sliding his thighs alongside Arthur’s hip, arching his back, and pressing their bodies together. Arthur could have lost himself, rode the oceanic waves of arousal crashing into him, and ignored the insistent pulling discomfort of Morgana’s missive.  They broke their kissing to breathe and he felt Merlin’s fine sweat-sheen skin rub against his as he moved to bury his face in the crook of Merlin’s neck. There was a war raging in his mind. When Merlin slid his fingers through Arthur’s now damp hair, murmuring, “Stay here. Stay with me,” he nearly lost the battle. 

Nearly. 

He felt the heaviness start in his chest before he moved a muscle. With a frustrated grunt Arthur pushed up, holding himself above Merlin, arms corded with tension. He couldn’t meet Merlin’s eyes, instead focusing on the blank wall behind him.

“I’m sorry,” he started and stopped. He wanted to forget Morgana’s voice, and the real pleading he heard behind her cool threats. The guilt was building like a sticky ball in the back of his throat, and he wanted to shove it down and silence it. Except he had been there before, as he’d confessed to Merlin just this evening - and he had a shell of a life to show for it. 

Merlin stilled beneath him at the sound of his words. From the corner of his eye, he saw Merlin look at him warily, and several more moments passed with Arthur frozen above him. Merlin turned his head away, finally, and swallowed thickly. Reaching up, he pushed a hand against Arthur’s shoulder, moving out from under him to sit on the side of the bed, facing away. Arthur shifted to keep his balance and watched Merlin pull the sheets with him, covering up. Arthur moved awkwardly to the other side of the bed, sliding on his boxers and jeans, absurdly trying to make as little noise as possible. 

“Merlin, I’m sorr-“ 

“Please don’t say that again.” Arthur was sliced by Merlin’s short, flat tone. 

His skin was still singing from all of the contact, from Merlin’s bare hands kneading his back and the press of his sharp hipbones against Arthur’s abdomen. His shoulders were still damp from where Merlin had moaned and kissed while they were sinking into each other. 

Arthur’s hands shook and he quickly finished dressing, keenly feeling how wrong it felt, all of a sudden. He picked up the corpse of his phone and looked at Merlin again. His naked back was still slightly hunched over. Naked, but not bare, Arthur noticed. It was his first look at this expanse of Merlin’s skin, so wrong in this moment, but unable to stop himself from staring.  The entire central swath of pale skin on Merlin’s back was largely replaced with a tattoo. Within intricate hues of blue, purple, green and brown was a swirling, majestic, and beautiful creature. Arthur could barely make it out in the dim lighting, though he couldn’t quite believe it. A gorgeous, writhing, dragon. 

It was Merlin’s voice, thrown over his shoulder, that broke the spell. 

“Your phone is dead. I know a guy who will replace it, but it will take a few days for me to get it for you.” His tone was unreadable. 

Arthur unglued himself from where he stood, walking around the bed and toward the door, but still ultimately hesitated. Merlin darted a look at him quickly and it was too fast for Arthur to read anything there. 

“I. Ok. That doesn’t matter...Merlin, that was Morgana,” Arthur tried.  “I can’t…not answer again.” He swallowed, willing Merlin to understand. “... I can’t.” 

Merlin looked up again at Arthur, his face still blank and frightening, but maybe less cold. He nodded silently. 

“Can I call you tomorrow?” Arthur ventured, shame rising at the neediness in his voice. 

Merlin didn’t smile, not at all. “With what phone?” 

Arthur itched to touch Merlin again, to feel connected, to know somehow, some way he wasn’t ruining everything. 

“Arthur. Go. I prefer to scrape my ego off the floor in private.” 

\---- 

By the time Arthur got to his apartment, he had very successfully transmuted all of his sadness, anxiety, and sexual frustration into an intense, refined ball of rage. 

Opening the door to the cab, he saw Morgana’s sleek black stilettos and well-tailored suit in a blur as he stalked past her without a word. She had an umbrella up in deference to the light drizzle, but was otherwise unaccompanied. 

After he jangled his keys in the lock and the door opened, he didn’t bother to hold it open for her. Walking a few steps into his kitchen area, he waited until Morgana had shut the door behind herself and then greeted her, pointedly looking past her shoulder. 

“Let me guess. Uther died again.” 

  

\---- 

“Stay here. Stay with me.” 

When Merlin had whispered those words, asking Arthur to stay, he had to finally admit to himself that his unspoken creed of Merlin and Gwen Against the World, No Strangers Allowed, was crumbling. And in that moment, which should have triggered him to back off, pull away, cut and run - he didn’t care. Arthur, a virtual Adonis, who had a kind heart and smoldered just beneath the surface of his detached exterior, intoxicated him. 

In the fairy tales that meant the night was supposed to end with fade-to-black lovemaking and a happily ever morning after. He had several of Gwen’s animated movies to prove it. 

Instead, Arthur’s phone had rang, Arthur had _picked it up_ , and Merlin basically destroyed it without a coherent thought. He was a little embarrassed about that, having thought of himself for several years as in control of his ‘gifts.’ Had the night gone differently he might have blushed, maybe muttered something about the heat of the moment and then shamelessly won Arthur over with a high-quality post-coital cuddle. But it hadn’t. And Merlin had ended up naked, aroused and exposed, as Arthur stammered apologies that stung like a live wire. And the worst- having failed at convincing Arthur to stay- he still had to give him the final push to leave.

In Arthur’s protracted exit, Merlin had heard his sharp intake of breath at seeing the dragon art on his back. He had fantasized about that moment, about what it would feel like to be under Arthur, stretched out by him, face down, with Arthur’s hands tracing down his back. 

With an exaggerated sigh, he let his head fall back against the subway window, ignoring the grit and grime baked into the layers and layers of plastic. Today, he was on the long subway ride out to his mother’s house, in Far Rockaway, where Gwen had spent a ‘Girls Night In’ with her Granny.  He used the time to try to clear the incessant memories of the night with Arthur from his mind. 

Merlin had been telling himself that this thing with Arthur was just a diversion. It was a brief trip back to his days as an unrelenting flirt, when the game of teasing and seduction and dating was fun and light and mostly for amusement’s sake. In the days before Gwen, he had spent his time daydreaming in class at City College, working retail for the express purpose of cruising, and generally flitting about the city in search of the next best scene. 

Then Gwen had shown up, and Merlin took her in, carelessly casual, thinking of it as just a new adventure in the city. Within three days, he knew he would never give her up. Within three months, the last few attachments to his bohemian life of pleasure had faded away. He finished up his degree in industrial design before her first birthday, and after turning down several job offers that would have him in an office more than he could be with Gwen, he tucked the diploma away in a drawer and went headlong into freelance repairs. 

Hunith was less than pleased with the turn of events in her son’s life, especially the abandon with which Merlin had decided to use his gifts, after years of her pleading with him to keep them hidden. 

Fortunately for Merlin, mothers might be nagging, guilt-inducing, and grudge-holding, but grandmothers were pure saps - all sweetness and light. After Merlin had slugged through the mountain of adoption paperwork and finished the official court proceedings, he invited Hunith to their celebratory lunch as Gwen’s new ‘Granny.’ Hunith took one look at her and the coast was clear. It was she who taught him that it was ok to take a break from his newfound fatherhood from time to time, that he’d actually make a better father for it. So Gwen had her occasional nights away with Hunith and Merlin sometimes sat on his couch watching reality TV until his brain rotted, or went out for drinks with his old college friends, or, more rarely, let Mark drag him out dancing with the Ailey crew. Afterwards, he always felt refreshed and eager to pick up Gwen. 

Today he felt jittery and frustrated and kind of embarrassed, because, despite the humiliation, all he really wanted to do was find Arthur again. The way that Arthur stared at him, with so much hunger and longing, had become a kind of drug to Merlin. He had found it easy to find Arthur's cracks, to make him smile, and Merlin enjoyed the unwrapping as much as he enjoyed the present inside. 

And then Arthur had shown up last night, crisp and eager and clearly scared, and Merlin, while sucking an orgasm out of him just to calm him down, decided, for no particular reason and for the second time in his life, that he wanted to keep someone forever. 

\---


	6. Chapter 6

“It’s nice to see you again too, Arthur.” 

Morgana was unmoved. She darted a look towards his tattered gray sofa. She sighed and crossed her arms, shifting weight from one shoe to the other. 

Silence was the best Arthur could do in response to her implicit scolding. He had made it this time, he came, he was here. Her presence was a jolting reality. He had shared a childhood with her, to a point. They used to play together, their mingled laughter and scurrying footsteps echoing through the empty halls of the Pendragon Estate. He was five when she arrived and shattered the loneliness he didn’t know he lived in. He was five and he had one friend. For a while, it didn’t matter that the young Morgana could throw her arms around Uther, giggling and sloppy, and he would squeeze back, and then carefully greet his own son with only a nod and “Arthur.” They had a make-believe world where kids were in charge, only grown-ups had to take baths, and everyone had a mother who made ice cream for dinner. 

But kids grow up fast, and somewhere along the way, they both got older and quieter. They stopped telling each other about their nightmares. By the time he finished A-levels, Morgana was just another reminder of Uther’s disappointment with him. When he escaped into the spoiled and wealthy party scene, he left them both.

Just as in everything else she did, Morgana had grieved for Uther appropriately. She followed all of the protocols, notifying the requisite dignitaries and providing a sorrowful face to the charity executives and the small media outlets bored enough to cover the death of a minor royal connection. On the way to the funeral, she had tried to reconnect with Arthur, tossing out a joke about their old playtimes; an easy olive branch to bridge a divide that neither one of them created. Arthur had seen it for what it was, and parried back. In that moment, there was a sliver of hope. Then the funeral happened. They stood side-by-side above Uther’s casket, tears running from Morgana’s eyes while Arthur’s were dry. Outwardly he was stoic. Inside, he was 5 years old again, at the mercy of Uther’s disparate affections, trying desperately to figure out what was so wrong and broken inside of him. 

And on that note, he left. 

“You look good, Arthur.”

“If you flew across the Atlantic Ocean to tell me that, you can leave now,” Arthur said, unyielding. 

“Goddamnit,” she flung out, quietly. The softer Morgana’s voice got, the angrier she generally was. Arthur could always get as loud and blustery as he wanted. She would win with quiet, piercing daggers that left him haunted by her whispered logic for days. 

“I am trying here, Arthur. Why do you always make it harder?” She stared at him and he saw the sincerity. He still looked away.

He sighed and walked past her. He settled on the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. 

“Trying. To do what. Exactly?” he bit out. He was holding down dread with mental white knuckles. He was pushing against the door of memories she brought with her, that wanted to fly open. He was trying not to feel the ghosts of Merlin’s kisses on his neck. 

And so no, he didn’t care about another olive branch. Arthur sighed and slid out of his jacket. It seemed as if this was going to take awhile. 

This time Morgana scoffed, mouth open, pointing at the pink bruise just peeking out of his neckline. She smiled. “Wait, just _where_ were you when I called?” she asked, curious and trying to tease. 

Arthur stilled and looked up at her, finally, making eye contact. This was always how it was with them. They couldn’t slot together right, one always wounded and the other trying to make peace. Tonight the cuts from leaving Merlin were fresh, and Arthur gave no quarter.

“Get the fuck out.”

She flinched and he saw the words land like a slap across her face. Taking a deep breath, she moved to the door, grabbing her umbrella along the way. Instead of leaving though, she turned and rested her back against the door. 

“The Pendragon Estate is being divested. The Estate will be opened as a public museum, and the allowance that keeps you in this quaint apartment and supports your little medical hobby that bleeds money will be cut off. I thought you might care to give a fuck. Excuse my mistake, Lord Pendragon.”

She left. Arthur didn’t move for awhile. He had registered the words but there was no impact. When the door slammed, he heaved forward like he was coming up for air. Nothing she said made sense. Unless there was some act of Parliament, a dukedom couldn’t just *disappear.* 

Rolling off of the sofa, he headed to his bathroom, thinking of a long, hot shower. He undressed, tossing his clothes in a pile, and unbidden, images of Merlin began to resurface. He half heartedly tried to ignore them, but once the hot spray hit his body, he thought of Merlin answering the door with wet hair, Merlin down on his knees, Merlin whispering adoration, Merlin shut down and hurt. The water ran cold, and he got out, padding over to check the door locks before going to bed. 

That was when he saw it - the thick, bound volume sitting on his kitchen table. And the title - in impeccable, unyielding font:

UTHER. LORD PENDRAGON - LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT.

\---------------------------------- 

“When are we going to see Dr. P again?,” is what Gwen tried to say around an extremely large mouthful of Fruit Loops cereal. 

It came out more of a garbled mess and Merlin pretended not to understand, taking his own mouthful of the sugary bright cereal with innocent brows raised.

“Hmm? You want to go to dance lessons again?”

They were mostly through their weekday morning ritual. Gwen always woke up first. This was something that no well-meaning parents had bothered to warn Merlin about. When she was a baby, everyone was quick to encourage him, that ‘soon’, she’d be sleeping through the night. True. What they failed to mention is that after that happened, he would never sleep in again - that apparently children have internal alarm clocks set to go off before adults are ready to greet the day. 

After too many mornings of Gwen getting a full dose of grumpy Merlin to start her morning, he had resorted to a ‘Daddy’ indicator light, secured on her nightstand. While it shone red, Gwen played quietly in her room. At 7 am, when it switched to green, she was allowed to breach Merlin’s door and wake him up. It was better for everyone. 

This morning, a school day, was rather ordinary. Gwen tugged on Merlin’s toes at 7:03am until he woke up. She presented him with the white shirt and purple shorts she had chosen to wear that day, for his approval. She got a hug, a kiss, and a yes, and Merlin rolled out of bed and into the kitchen to make coffee instantaneously appear. While Merlin showered, Gwen got dressed and had morning tea with her stuffed animal friends on the balcony. They reunited in the kitchen, and now were finishing up breakfast.

“No, Daddy. P! Dr. P!,” she enunciated. “I want more dragon stickers. Can we go after school?”

“No honey. We have to make an appointment to see Dr. P.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he has to know we are coming.”

“Why?,” she asked, hesitating on her next bite. 

“Because… Because those are the rules. We have to follow the rules.”

Now Gwen put her spoon down. Merlin winced as he heard the words come out, not sure who exactly he sounded like. It had been a week since he’d seen Arthur. Seven days in which he’d made zero progress in resolving his feelings. Gwen had not noticed Arthur at the dance studio, and so hadn’t seen him since they crashed his office hours. Merlin had wondered if she would bring him up again. Question answered.

“But Daddy, we didn’t have an appointment last time,” she replied, explaining patiently. 

“Yes, but that was special. That was … just one special time,” Merlin tried. He blushed, not because of his messy Arthur feelings, but because he hated lying to Gwen. He hated it on principle, but more so because she could see right through him. 

“Ok, Daddy.” 

She finished her cereal bowl and Merlin wallowed in the judgmental eyes of a six-year old. 

He had gotten a replacement phone for Arthur fairly easily -- called in a favor from a woman who worked at the genius bar in the Mac store in Midtown. She’d had a hardware issue with an iMac she couldn’t figure out, and didn’t want to admit to anyone at work. Merlin was her discreet consultant, and she owed him way more than a refurbished iPhone. After dropping Gwen off at school, he had sent the phone to Arthur’s office, agonizing over what to say in a note, if anything. He settled on a few brief lines, and added his phone number. 

\------------------------------------

Arthur was a zombie at work. He had stayed up all night, that damn Sunday night, reading and re-reading Uther’s will. Line by line, word by word, he tried to find some way to have it read something other than what it said. Theoretically, this was old news. Uther’s will was read at the time he died, and Arthur, like everyone else named, did his duty by showing up to witness the reading. After the opening remarks and ten minutes of everything that was to be done in honor of the late Duchess of Essex, he left. He procured his own attorney, drew up papers empowering Morgana with complete control of the Estate, signed them and split. 

What he hadn’t heard was the part about Arthur Pendragon, successor of Uther, heir to the Pendragon Estate.

> It is my ultimate wish for my only son and heir, Arthur Pendragon, to suceed me as the Duke of Essex, with all of the rights, responsiblities therein. I wish that he maintain the Estate and its interests, chiefly the charitable, medical, and research endeavours of the Uther Pendragon Maternal Mortality conference. Greater that this, however, I wish joy and contentment for the only child of my great love, the Duchess of Essex. This, I fear, he cannot attain in the hold of the aforementioned responsibilities. 
> 
> I therefore direct, that in the event of the passage of five years time, if Arthur has not expressed interest nor invested time nor effort into the maintenance of the Pendragon Estate, that the charitable endeavors and private holdings be divorced from the royal estate. The personal holdings of the Pendragon family, to include the cottage on Lake Vance and the stables at Goodhampton, will be transfered to the ownership of Morgana Pendragon, who shall continue in her current role as the Director of the Excutive Board of the UPMM foundation, with its guaranteed salary and benefits, for as long as she so chooses. The Pendragon Estate lands and structures shall be given to the United Kingdom for maintenance and public use. As even I cannot interfere with the law, Arthur shall maintain the royal title, and that alone. 
> 
> This is my last will and testament. 

There were 72 more pages of explanation, detailed directives, and legal speak, but the net effect did not change. With no effort on his part whatsoever, Arthur would be just Arthur Pendragon, pediatrician, former noble.

He had been up every night since. 

Thank god for Mrs. Halden. Outside of the prescribing of controlled substances, Arthur was fairly sure that after her time with him thus far, the woman could essentially run the practice without him. 

“It’s been 4 weeks. I think you can start tapering Jimmy’s steroids.”

Arthur nodded mutely and signed the prescription she held in front of him. 

“Yes, good. Thanks.”

“And it’s been one week since you stopped communicating in full sentences. When can I expect that to improve?” She looked up from Jimmy’s file. 

They shared a look, and Arthur, of course, looked away first. 

“Figure it out, Arthur. Or talk to someone. Or both.” This she said gently, letting him avoid her gaze. He nodded and cleared his throat. 

“Yeah. Yes. I know.” 

She smacked him on the arm with the chart and turned off, with a muttered “I hope so,” under her breath. 

That afternoon, Arthur was finishing up with his last patient, when he was called to the lobby by his secretary, Wendy. 

“Dr. P, this dude says he has a delivery for you and _only_ you can sign for it” she said with an apologetic eye roll. 

The ‘dude’ was another of the hipster variety, who looked 30, dressed like he was 16, complete with funky barefoot sneakers and awkward blond dreadlocks. 

“Arthur Pendragon?” 

“Yes?”

“Sweet. This is yours. From Merlin.”

Arthur automatically took the small box he offered. 

“Oh… Thank you.”

“Sure thing, man. Merlin’s the best, right? He got my bike to glide like no other, am I right?” 

Arthur just held the box and nodded at it, not noticing the hand the bike messenger was holding up for a high five. 

“…. Right. Ok.” Arthur retreated into his office. 

He opened the box, foundthe phone, and read Merlin’s note in the space of a few seconds. 

_This one should be as good as new. Hope things are okay with Morgana. Gwen is running out of dragon stickers. -M (917-555-8287)._

It took him about the space between one breath and next to turn it on and start dialing. 

\----------------------------------------

“Yeah, Merlin here,” Merlin answered, balancing Gwen’s backpack in one hand and her Lego house creation in the other. She strolled beside him on the street, devouring her 50 cent _coco helado_ from the ice cream stand. 

“…Uh. Hi. This is - this is Dr. Pendragon.”

Merlin stopped in his tracks, automatically grabbing Gwen’s shoulder to stop with him. 

“Excuse me? Arthur?”

“Um. Yes. This is Dr. P and I was hoping to talk to Gwen?” 

Merlin actually lifted his phone away from his face, to stare at it in disbelief. 

“Ooohkay.” They were almost to their apartment. “One second.” He was smiling, which was absurd. He shuffled Gwen, her ice cream, her lego house and bag, and himself into their elevator and Gwen did the required press and hold on the 3 button until the doors opened on their floor. Once they were inside, he turned to Gwen. 

“Gwen, honey. Dr. P is on the phone. Do you--“ 

“DRAGONS!!!!!!!!!!”

He took that as a yes. Gwen eagerly held out her hand for the phone. 

“Hello! Dr. P! Can we have an appointment? Daddy says we need a appointment. Do you have those??”

Gwen listened intently to the voice on the other line, ice cream forgotten.

“What? What? I don’t know!” she said after a few moments, excitedly. 

Merlin saw Gwen’s mouth drop open, and she stared at him with wide eyes. 

“I **told** Daddy! I told him we could come back! He said --“ and she was cut off again. 

Merlin was dying. He had put their things down and was sitting on the floor, next to a standing Gwen, grappling with patience. 

“Yes. I say Yes.”

Silence. 

“No, Daddy will help, he’s magic so he can do lots of stuff,” she said, with no apparent need for consultation with Merlin. 

Silence.

“Ok. Yes I’ll tell him. I won’t forget.”

Silence. 

“I promise. And Dr. P?” -- this time tentatively, and full of hope. “Can we get some more dragon stickers? Daddy likes them too.”

Gwen smiled at the response and, finally, gave the phone back to Merlin. He moved it to his ear, but the line was dead. 

“Gwen, honey, what did--“

“We are going to SAVE DR. P!!!!!!” she broke in, not excited at all. She took her ice cream back, and took a seat on the couch. 

“He says he **needs** us. He says he has a problem, and only people who like dragons can help. He says if we help him, he’ll give us ALL the dragon stickers!” She paused, eying Merlin warily. 

“Daddy - we can help, right? He likes dragons like you do. He’s like us.”

Merlin opened his mouth to reply and Gwen cut him off again. 

“He says that if you say No, I should say that sometimes dragons are shy and scared but they still want to be fixed.”

\---------------------------------- 

Arthur walked through the aisles of F.A.O. Shwartz and felt generally under siege. It did not help that he was already weighed down with purchases from his 3 prior stops. 

It was his fault for asking Merlin and Gwen to meet at his apartment, without a care to the current state of said apartment. 

Morgana had left a card with her hotel number on it. She stayed in town for the week to spearhead the new foundation research center in United States. While Arthur hadn’t been looking, the Foundation was expanding. Under Morgana’s leadership, the organization was now giving out six-figure grants and more for worthy research projects all over the world. Morgana was actually much busier than Arthur, but between her meetings and his patients, they managed to have a few more terse conversations. She confirmed what Arthur read in the will, confirmed the lack of any loopholes, and reiterated the mechanisms and witnesses that had been put in place for its execution. In 24 hours Morgana was leaving, to start the process Uther had laid out. 

Arthur needed to convince Merlin, against all of his better judgment, to help. He propped the oversize bear he had chosen on the check-out counter and made a mental note to stop by the animal shelter on East 59th. 

\------------------------------------------------------

Merlin and Gwen arrived, as promised, the following Saturday afternoon at 1pm. They came directly from Gwen’s dance lesson, as Arthur had expected. When the door buzzer went off, he checked around again, for the hundredth time, that everything was in place. 

He grabbed the doorknob tightly, making up for the slight tremor in his hands. When the door opened, and he was face-to-face with Merlin again, his stomach dropped because Yes, God, he wanted this to work. 

Merlin was in muted black and grey, again, with the exception of a hot pink hair bow around his wrist. He smiled, just a little bit. To Arthur it was a red carpet invitation. He felt some tension immediately ease and exhaled and said “Merlin”, all at once. 

“And me!,” Gwen piped up. She was once again in her leotard, tutu, and tights get-up, with a Puff the Magic dragon t-shirt cover. She beamed at Arthur.

“And Gwen!,” he added, beaming right back. 

“Dr. P, we’re here! I said it just like you said. And Daddy didn’t say ‘No’, but he was looking funny, so then I said the other thing about being scared, and then he said you were evil and ad…ado…, some big word he said, and he said it means ‘cute’ and I said we could help you because of the dragons and he said ‘maybe’ and I said-“ and just like that, the litany was cut off. As Gwen’s chatter had continued, Merlin had rolled his eyes in surrender and followed Arthur’s welcoming gesture through the door, Gwen in hand. 

Only when Arthur had moved aside, and Gwen could see past him into the living room, did she stop. In that way that little kids can really make those cartoon-esque expressions, Gwen had stopped in her tracks, mouth hanging open. 

Arthur had transformed his living room. There was a kid table and chairs - which looked suspiciously like the one on Merlin’s balcony. In each seat was a different stuffed animal, including the brown bear from FAO Schwartz. On the table were Legos, magic markers, glitter, and 5 varieties of play-dough. And maybe if that were it, Gwen would be capable of motion and/or speech, but Arthur had also bought the entire Puff the Magic Dragon series, with the books lined up on his couch within Gwen’s reach. And in the corner of the couch, secured by cushions and her own tiny size, was a mewing black kitten. It had its paws up on one of the pillows, barely peeking over, eyes scanning the room before tumbling back onto the soft sofa cushion. 

Gwen was still speechless but took two steps forward before she remembered her arm was still connected, via her hand, to Merlin’s. She looked up at him, wide-eyed and still apparently unable to form words. 

Merlin scoffed and let her go, shoving both hands into his back pockets and turning slowly toward Arthur. 

“And here I thought you were the restrained type,” Merlin said, raising an eyebrow. 

“I just wanted to make sure you would stay--, “ Arthur started and cringed immediately. _‘Stay here, stay with me.’_

“I mean, that I wanted Gwen to not be bored, you know, while we talked,” he tried, blushing and serious. 

“Arthur, you missed ‘bored’ by, I don’t know, a galaxy?,” Merlin deadpanned, though there was small smile at the corner of his mouth. He stepped towards Arthur, closing some of the space between them. 

“You didn’t have to do any of this.” Merlin added sincerely. He met Arthur’s eyes, and there was softness there, but he didn’t say or do anything more. Arthur knew he was the one who had walked out, who disrupted their pattern - the one where Merlin drew him out with smiles and touches and kisses and Arthur melted into him, pretending not be scared. It was selfish, but he wanted Merlin to do it again, to read him and defrost him. As he stood there, staring back at Merlin, he realized that was not going to happen this time. He steeled himself, and, stalling, sneaked a glance at Gwen. She was sitting at the tea table, kitten in lap, singing quietly to herself while coloring. So, ok, no help there. 

He moved closer to Merlin and gently reached out, grabbing hold of his wrists and pulling his hands forward, holding them both between them. 

“Merlin,” he started and even just with that Merlin smiled, turning his hands over to hold Arthur’s properly. Arthur swallowed, humbled at the gift.

“I’m sorry about last time, that I had to leave,” he said, squeezing his hands in emphasis. His voice dropped. “I would have given anything to stay,” he whispered, looking down. Merlin squeezed back. 

“I know, Arthur,” he murmured. 

Arthur nodded quickly, wishing they could just stay here in this moment. He broke away instead, and motioned Merlin to sit with him at the kitchen table. They sat facing each other, with the low sounds of Gwen amusing herself cutting through the silence. 

“Morgana brought me Uther’s Will. I didn’t know, I mean I should have known, but I didn’t know his plans.” Arthur spoke to the tabletop and Merlin leaned forward in compensation. “He gave me five years to be involved, to be in the Estate, to work for the Charity, I don’t know, to just, be there. And if that didn’t happen, he set a plan to dissolve it all. I mean, not destroy it but, cut cut it up. And, and, set me loose.” Arthur paused. 

“Arthur,” Merlin said, gently, “I don’t follow.” 

Arthur scoffed silently at himself. He looked up to Merlin again “Sorry. Let me try again. In English.” 

“Merlin - I need your help. By means which are too detailed and boring to recite, my late father has devised a way to cut me off from my ancestry and my heritage - to dissolve the Dukedom in everything but name - and it turns out that ‘a’ - I actually don’t want that to happen despite all of my adolescent dreams and ‘b’ - I have 72 hours to stop it from happening.” 

Merlin’s face went from focused to confused and back again. He opened his mouth to reply but Arthur spoke again. 

“I know it’s inappropriate to ask. I don’t have the … the right,” Arthur forced out. “But I need you, Merlin.” Arthur felt the flush creeping up his neck, but dove in anyway. “I want you and I need you.” And Arthur didn’t do it on purpose, but he heard the inflection in his voice just the same. 

As did Merlin. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand down his leg and glanced over at Gwen and back to Arthur again, staring. 

“You know I want you, Arthur,” Merlin replied, matter of fact, and hot. “But I’m not sure how I’m supposed to help you stop your royal Armageddon.” He shook his head, rolling his eyes in the direction of Gwen again. “I’m a little concerned about the specifics you have in mind, given that we’re discussing ancestral fortunes and you’ve bribed my daughter with nirvana-level gifts over there.” 

Arthur stared back.

“What I have in mind, is that I must see the Queen. And I need you to help, by coming with me.”

\-----------------------------------------------------


	7. Chapter 7

Dropping one’s child off with her grandmother, on short notice, for 3 days, wasn’t, in and of itself, something to be ashamed of, Merlin told himself. Dropping off said child with new kitten in tow and no care instructions was perhaps less aboveboard, but on the whole, understandable. Mumbling something about a ‘special opportunity’ and blushing furiously when your daughter fills in the details on your impromptu 72-hour holiday across the pond with the new man you may have not told your mother about -- slightly cringe-worthy. 

Merlin threw another pair of socks into his suitcase and thought of his friend Mark’s approval, instead of his mother.

“Are you shitting me? That hot brooding blond that was in here a few weeks ago?!,” Mark had exclaimed, with no care for volume control, when Merlin called him for advice the night before. 

He had already given Arthur a tentative yes that Saturday in his apartment. Which, given that he was a chronically spontaneous soul, he was proud of the whole ‘tentative’ part. He was responsible and mature and hadn’t said yes just for the purpose of watching the relief and hope blossom on Arthur’s face. He had dignity and self-respect and he didn’t agree just so he could slide Arthur up into a hug and touch him again, *finally*, and murmur “of course I’ll help you,” in his ear. He believed in self-preservation and had appropriately quizzed Arthur on how exactly he would be applying his talents to this legal issue (“you know, cutting red tape, gaining entry, that sort of thing.” said Arthur, with no clarity at all). 

Somehow, despite all of this self-congratulation, Merlin had an attack of conscience while walking Gwen home. He called Mark as soon as she went to bed. Now, he was questioning even that decision. 

“Listen Merlin, I’m not sure what you are on about. He’s gorgeous, he’s titled, he’s a damn doctor, oh, and he rescues kittens for six year olds. Yes, definitely a serial killer,” Mark continued. 

“Yes, ugh, no. I know, I mean I know he’s not going to *hurt* me-“

“God, he could hurt me alllll day…,’ Mark interjected helpfully, and Merlin laughed in spite of himself. 

“Ok, just tell Gwen I love her if I get arrested for offending the monarchy or something.” Merlin tossed the lube that lived in the back of his sock drawer into the suitcase as well. A boy could dream. 

“Whatever. This is my advice: Bring your jumbo-sized lube. None of that travel size shit. It’s worth the bag check fee.”

Merlin had laughed out loud and hung up on him. He texted Arthur confirmation, set things up with Hunith, and then gave in and jerked off without even pretending not to moan Arthur’s name. 

\--------------------------------------

The morning of their flight, Arthur had sent a car service to pick up Merlin, even though, due to living in Brooklyn, Merlin was closer to JFK than Arthur was anyway. He wanted everything to go smoothly, feeling completely responsible for this ridiculous idea he concocted on too little sleep and too much worry. He had bought tickets before he’d even called Merlin to make amends. They had discreet pickup arranged at Heathrow, and Arthur confirmed that his favorite hotel had a room available and would book him under the usual alias he had retired years ago. When Arthur was nervous, he planned; and when he was very nervous, he planned obsessively. So yes, he was more than slightly concerned when it was 8 minutes until boarding time and Merlin was nowhere in sight. 

Arthur had his duffle bag slung over his shoulder, and was pacing under the fluorescent lights, offensively bright at 6 am. He pulled out his cell again, checking for messages from Merlin. He could call, but then he would have to deal with Merlin on the other end, having coming to his senses, and politely turning Arthur down. He sighed and pocketed it again, starting to really feel the creep of doubt settle. The PA system crackled to life and, based on habit and not on the garbled message of the gate agent, people started to dutifully line up. Arthur lingered and put himself at the back of the line, ignoring the elite status on his boarding ticket. He shuffled forward slowly, not letting himself look around, and hope, anymore. 

And then a warm pair of arms slid around his waist. 

“Sorry,” Merlin breathed, leaning into the back of Arthur’s neck. “You may want to know that your chosen savior has extreme difficulty getting to airports on time.” He was panting, clearly having raced to the gate. 

Arthur whipped around at the touch, letting out a groan of relief. Merlin’s eyes sparkled and Arthur, being held by him already, didn’t think for a second, reaching up to Merlin’s neck and pulling him into a kiss. 

Merlin tightened his hold on Arthur’s waist, taking Arthur’s lips sliding on his and Arthur’s hand sneaking up along his back as forgiveness. 

Arthur pulled away, and took Merlin’s hand firmly in his own. 

“God, don’t ever do that to me again,” he said, fervent. 

Merlin smiled another apology and they moved forward to the gate. It wasn’t until they handed over their boarding passes that Arthur gave Merlin a once-over, frowning. 

“Merlin, where are your things?”

“Oh, I checked my bag,” Merlin said, and it felt like flirting, though Arthur didn’t know why. He tilted his head, smirking, as they headed down the jet way.

They settled into their seats in first class. Merlin took the window and Arthur the aisle. Merlin slid his hand right back into Arthur’s once they were settled. Arthur stared blankly forward as the flight attendants performed the odd seatbelt and exit doors dance, and thought about the challenge that lay ahead. There was really no guarantee that anything he did would make a difference. Actually there were innumerable ways that it wouldn’t. And maybe he didn’t deserve for it to matter. He sighed heavily. And then yelped when Merlin poked him in the side. 

“Don’t go all brooding on me now. We’re not even before her royalness.”

Arthur snorted and nudged him back. 

“Merlin – aren’t you British? What kind of proper address is that?”

“Hmpf. By technicality only. My mum got me out of there before too much British propriety got into me.”

“Or any of it, it seems,” Arthur retorted. 

Merlin bared his teeth without concern. 

“Don’t worry, Arthur, I’m sure sitting in first class for the next six hours will just make that propriety ooze into me.” He gave Arthur a peck on the check, lifted up the armrest between them, and wormed his head in to rest against Arthur’s chest. 

In 10 minutes he was out, snoring softly into Arthur’s polo. 

 

Merlin licks a stripe up Arthur’s neck and groans. He feels like he’s been waiting for this for years. Finally, he gets to touch and taste and feel Arthur, and no one is going to stop them. He sets himself squarely astride Arthur, letting his hands roam over his expansive chest, kneading into his muscles. He loves the solid strength there and settles his hips down and back, humming in pleasure when Arthur’s erection lines up against him. He is so ready for this and tells Arthur the same. When Arthur’s fingers start stretching him open, he moans and lifts up on his knees, giving him more room. At this point it can’t be fast enough and he tells Arthur that too. He shifts against him again, and squeezes his eyes shut when Arthur finally tightens his grip on his hips, moving him into the right spot. His breath is coming in stutters when someone shakes his shoulder.

“Merlin…. Merlin!,” Arthur hissed, and Merlin made a frustrated noise as he got shoved against his seat. 

“Mmpf. What?....Arthur…,” Merlin muttered, blearily opening his eyes, a frown already in place. 

“For the love of God, stop saying my name,” Arthur said, tightly. Merlin looked down and saw his hand in Arthur’s lap, and Arthur’s own in a death grip on Merlin’s wrist. He tugged his hand away, slowly realizing what was real and what was his (fantastic, amazing, god he almost was there) dream. He looked up at Arthur, who looked back with stern and tired eyes. 

“Ahh. Umm. Sorry,” Merlin said, leaning away towards the window. He was rock hard, and flushed, and for a split second really wanted to be able to open the window for a cold breeze. 

Arthur sighed and tugged him back over to his side. He tucked him into a G-rated cuddle. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you,” he murmured. “But I packed lightly, and I can’t afford to ruin these pants.”

Merlin chuckled, still embarrassed, but comfortable, with Arthur. 

“Plus our flight attendant is getting far more of a show than her mediocre service deserves,” Arthur added. 

At that Merlin snorted, loudly, effectively dispelling the last of the crackling tension from his dream. He silently rolled his eyes at Arthur, who was actually posh and royal enough to have an opinion about the service in first class. 

The rest of the flight was uneventful. Merlin was whisked through by Arthur’s carefully laid plans, from the sleek ride that picked them up at the airport to the discreet check-in service at their hotel. Who could fault him for ignoring that there was some urgency and seriousness in this trip? There might as well be montage music playing in the background to go with the care Arthur had shown in getting him here and the easy affection Merlin only saw glimpses of before. By the time they got to their room, a corner suite on the top floor, Merlin felt warm anticipation in the glow of Arthur’s attention.  
\----------------------------

Arthur held open their suite door for Merlin, so polite, with hungry eyes. He radiated heat and want and yes and now. Merlin didn’t bother trying to make it past him. He stopped in the doorway, looping both arms around Arthur’s neck and reached up to kiss him. Arthur met him more than halfway, groaning. He wrapped up Merlin in a strong embrace and lifted, shifting a few steps, effectively carrying him over the threshold. Merlin chuckled, and Arthur was flushed and hot, loving it. 

Arthur was thinking they should be rushing to the bed, furiously stripping clothes and getting to it. Finally. His body, though, wanted to sink into this moment. He wanted to fuck Merlin, for sure, but at that second, he would have done anything to keep Merlin’s arms wrapped around him, to keep Merlin’s hands running through his hair. He had just sat through what had to be the longest flight in history, anxious and horny and more anxious. Now he might never let Merlin go. Moving a hand down to cup Merlin’s ass, he squeezed, fingers pressing, and was delighted in Merlin’s lean firmness. 

They had been kissing for so long, Arthur was starting to get that lightheaded feeling. He had both hands on Merlin’s ass, kneading, and his dimming mind was flashing memories of Merlin’s nakedness, Merlin asking to be pushed to his knees, Merlin’s mouth around his cock. He heard short desperate sounds of longing and was honestly not sure from whom they were coming. When he slid his mouth away from Merlin’s, just long enough to breath, Merlin shifted into action. Pushing away from Arthur’s chest, he pushed back into the hands palming his ass, and raked Arthur’s shirt up all at once. Breathing had gotten Arthur’s brain back on line, goal directed. When he moved to help Merlin with his shirt, Merlin abruptly left him to finish that, and pressed a hot hand against his cock instead.

 

Yeah, this was happening, and it was happening now. Arthur, now shirtless, tried to ignore the trepidation. He couldn’t help the tendrils of anxiety he felt climbing up the back of his neck. But he could distract himself -- distract himself from the doubt, from the vague unease of intimacy even in the midst of all of this desire. He had been alone for a long time and the world and the rules he built were crumbling like ash. He wasn’t naked yet, but he was exposed, and somewhere inside, shivering. He pushed Merlin towards the bed, making quick work of disrobing him along the way. When Merlin climbed onto the bed, sliding out of his boxers, Arthur shed the rest of his clothes too. Merlin lay back against the mountain of pillows with a small grin, staring openly at Arthur’s form. He wrapped a hand around his own erection. Arthur wondered at his ease with himself. Merlin looked him over and sighed, still with gentle smile.

“C’mon, then,” he beckoned, motioning Arthur over with a nod. “You didn’t drag me all the way over here not to finish what you started.”

As Arthur moved toward him, he maked a deliberate effort to stop thinking. He eased up to Merlin’s side and let desire direct him. Bending his head, he licked a stripe along Merlin’s hipbone. Merlin groaned, tightening his hand around his cock. The sound propelled Arthur and he licked, and kissed, and sucked some more - along his hips, at the base of cock, and high on his inner thighs. Merlin was trembling. The hand on his cock had lost its even rhythm and his legs were splayed wide, with Arthur settled between them. When he gently licked along Merlin’s balls, pressing two fingers deliberately at the base of his cock, against the perineum, Merlin whimpered, his hand falling away from its erratic grip on his cock. Arthur immediately took over, surging up to wrap a hand firmly around and taking Merlin’s leaking erection into his mouth in one fell swoop.

“God fucking christ, Arthur…” His name was drawn out on Merlin’s lips. He sucked harder, taking Merlin deeper, humming his moans and keeping a tight grip on Merlin’s thighs. Feeling lightheaded again, he mentally sank into the whitespace, eyes closed, letting the old images and Merlin’s current moans float together. By the time he released Merlin in order to lean over the side of the bed and grab some lube, his lips were a little swollen, his throat was a little sore, and his entire body was on fire.

“Arthur, I’m ready. Forget anything elaborate. I’m ready.”

Merlin gazed at him through heavy-lidded eyes. At some point along the way, perhaps when their suite door had opened and ‘Merlin/private/sex’ registered in his mind, Arthur’s speech center had shut down. The sex hum in his head was so loud he really hadn’t noticed. But now, what with all the kissing, and the silence, and the sucking and deep-throating, when he finally did speak, Arthur’s voice sounded like pure gravel.

“All right. Turn over.”

Merlin eyes flashed and he did as told, smoothly sliding a small pillow under his hips as Arthur lifted a leg over him, resting on his knees. His ass was on Merlin’s upper thighs, trapping him. He had full view of the giant dragon stretched out on Merlin’s back. It was equisite art in the full light. The sinews and scales were so intricate that each delicate rise and fall of Merlin’s breath created the illusion of movement. As Merlin twisted and stretched under Arthur's sweeping hands, the dragon shimmered and writhed along with him. It was breathtaking. Arthur leaned over to kiss the pattern that grazed Merlin’s shoulder blade, and Merlin whimpered again, pushing his ass up and towards Arthur.

“Please. please. please. please,” Merlin pleaded, breathless. " I can't..."

Arthur lubed up three fingers generously, and pushed two immediately into Merlin in response. He slid pressure against his prostate on the way out, and Merlin, with a shout of Arthur’s name, abruptly came, bucking against the pillow. Arthur felt something start to crack open inside of him. He groaned and stretched his fingers for a few more moments while Merlin rocked back against him, shuddering with aftershocks.

When looking back Arthur will not remember sliding a condom on, or grabbing an extra pillow to make a better angle for him and Merlin. He will vaguely recall the white hot sensation of sinking into Merlin for the first time and sort of remember Merlin trembling, murmuring “Yes”, and reaching out to grab hold of the bed post. The memory of looking down at Merlin’s dragon, wet with sweat and practically undulating with the rhythm of his thrusts, will be blurry, but there. He will always remember being on the edge of orgasm, on the edge of falling out of his self-imposed cage into the terror of real life, and he will never forget leaning down to speak the truth of his heart to the one that set it free.

“Merlin . . . you are my magic.”

\-----------------------------------

They both passed out after sex, and woke up ravenous. Arthur sent Merlin off to clean up first, and ordered in room service. They had a quiet meal sitting on the floor in front of the hotel sofa, side by side and touching for no reason. Arthur chose that time to lay out more details of his plans. Thus far, Merlin had not really followed the details of Arthur’s legal predicament, which he didn’t think mattered all that much. He understood what was important, that Arthur was set to lose his connection to his messy, painful, historical, and maybe somewhere in there, dignified, past. He understood that Arthur thought that this was Uther wounding him again, one last time, from the grave. Merlin was just speculating, as he’d never met Uther, but he also thought that maybe Arthur’s father had seen the whole gesture differently. That was for Arthur to work out, though. Amazingly enough, Merlin thought, Arthur had decided the first step back to this life was to see the Queen. 

Arthur’s plan was simple. Gain access to the Queen. Explain the directives of Uthur’s will. Petition the Queen to intervene. She would intervene. They would go home. 

Apparently Merlin’s role came at the ‘gaining access’ portion of this endeavor. 

“You see, it’s not so easy to have an audience with the Queen. I mean, it usually takes, months, or weeks at the very least. And there are layers and layers of formality to get through.” Arthur paused and looked shrewdly at Merlin.

“That’s where I hoped you could come in. All of the scheduling, the ‘paperwork’ is electronic now, and ultimately all of these people just follow the rules. I know all the steps, I know where to go and who to speak to. I need you to get me on those schedules, Merlin. And maybe do some other things I haven’t foreseen yet. I know – I mean, I know I don’t know exactly what your…” Arthur struggled for a word. 

“Gwen seems think the word ‘magic’ covers it pretty well,” Merlin smiled, motioning Arthur to continue. 

“…Hmm. Yeah. ‘Magic’ – does. But from what I gather you can ‘fix’ as you say basically anything with moving parts, anything electronic, including computers, and -- I’m guessing here -- that includes software?”

Merlin nodded, prickling a little, unused to such a frank discussion of his abilities. He trusted Arthur, but this still felt odd, and a bit scary from the fear Hunith had instilled in him of being used. 

“I don’t know what everything will be like, it may just be getting my name on a list and us through a few doors. It may be more.” Arthur paused again. “ I would like your help. I think I need it. But you don’t have to know, you don’t have to do any of it Merlin. Just you being here is… good. I’m asking, and you can say no.”

Merlin buried a quip about his track record of saying No to Arthur being about as dismal as anything could be. And, truthfully, it meant something to him that Arthur cared. 

He leaned forward and waited for Arthur to meet his eyes.

“I’m here because I want to help. I’m not afraid, because I know you are trying to make something right and you’re not out to hurt anyone. I won’t do anything I’m not comfortable with. Okay?”

Arthur nodded, reaching for Merlin’s hand across the table. 

“Are you sure?”

Merlin nodded, grinning, and putting his other hand on top of them both. 

“Yes. And that’s the last time you get to ask me. “

Arthur nodded again, but with a furrow still in his brow. 

“I just—“

“Arthur – do you want me to list for you the far more nefarious and devious things I have done with my abilities?” he challenged, eyebrow raised. 

Arthur shook his head, but smiled. He checked his watch. 

“Ok. Is it time to call Gwen? She’s about out of school now, no?”

And cue the montage music, Merlin thought again, hopelessly and pathetically in love.


	8. Chapter 8

Software was always tricky. It was really Merlin’s least favorite thing to manipulate. He changed and moved things because he could *see* them, see inside them and remix them. Seeing inside software was looking at a whole lot of 1s and 0s, which was either criminally boring or so convoluted that he got a headache. He really didn’t enjoy it.

It was now Merlin’s his third straight hour spent hunched over Arthur’s laptop, trying not to think about the litany of activities he’d rather be doing with Arthur than hacking Her Royalness’ official schedule. He was wearing his favorite gray t-shirt and boxers, legs folded with the hateful machine propped on his lap, in bed.  In their luxurious, criminally comfortable bed. Site of recent fantastic sex. Current location of one Arthur Pendragon, clad only in boxers, freshly showered, hair still wet, laid out fully beside Merlin, with his head resting next to Merlin’s hip. 1s and fucking 0s.

“Do the flames always happen?” Arthur started, his voice slow and quiet. “When you’re…working. Do your eyes always do that?”

Merlin’s hands stilled and he looked down at Arthur.

“Yeah. Does it bother you?”

Arthur stared fully into his eyes for a moment, then hoisted himself up on one hand, the other coming around to cup Merlin’s face.

“It’s beautiful.”

Merlin was such a fucking goner it wasn’t even funny. He groaned as Arthur gripped tighter and kissed the breath out of him.

Arthur broke it off, much too early. He spared a glance over at the computer.

“Are you almost done?”

Merlin followed his gaze to the lit screen.

“Yes, if you want to be granted access to Buckingham Palace, hold an audience with the royal secretary and then be summarily strip-searched and thrown out on your ass when you casually mention an appointment with the Queen.”

Arthur’s mouth quirked up just enough for Merlin to understand that he was trying to keep that from happening. He eased back _(“No!”_ ), lying down again with an arm thrown up and over his head.

“And if I’d like to have a cup of tea with Her Highness?” he countered, drily. 

Merlin sighed. “Give me another hour. By the way, if we can get in as part of a tour group, do you know the way from there?”

“Yes, I think so. As long as the hallways haven’t been reworked in the last 6 years.”

“Ok.” That got Merlin back in gear. Turned out no actual noble walked through the front door. The front gates were for the lesser folk who were neither titled nor landed. But given that working through the “Requests for Entry, Audience, and/or Conference with Her Highness: Lords, Ladies, Foreign Dignitaries, and Heads of State” _initial_ screen looked like murder, and given that Merlin was now half-hard with an almost naked Pendragon lying-in-wait - a short cut would do.

\-----------------------------

Arthur had rehearsed his words, the flow, the cadence, his _posture_ even, a thousand times in his head. He had only been in this room once before, and he was not even sure if he truly had the memory or he had just been told the story of his family’s visit when he was five years old so often that the memories were created for him. He wouldn’t think that visit would even matter, except for the well known fact that the Queen had a steel trap memory. The thought of which sank him further, to imagine the details of his rebellion playing like a fresh feature in her mind.

The sigh he thought inaudible was interrupted by Merlin’s hand, barely there, skirting across his back. He inclined his head toward Arthur slightly, keeping his gaze ahead at the imposing double doors and more imposing, motionless guards.

“Breathe,” he murmured. “Remember she’s just your batty old great Auntie.”

And so, when just moments later, the stoic guards responding to some invisible signal move in concert and open the doors, Arthur, for all intents and purposes, despite all of his mental practicing, was mid-eye roll, face to face with the Queen. 

“And so I see nothing has changed, Lord Pendragon.” Her voice was soft and crisp. She stood in greeting. She had all of the countenance that Arthur remembered. She stood barely 5 feet tall and cast a shadow of dignity that filled the room. She was older than he remembered, of course, but older in that maybe just because of his physician’s eye, he noticed the cloudy lenses that meant cataracts and the hand that wasn’t so much resting on the back of a chair as using it for balance. Arthur stared at his great aunt, his family. What had started as a flicker when he first read Uther’s will, the small spark that he had protected, instead of squashed, caught fire between one moment and the next - belonging, wanting to belong, again.  He took in the tendrils of frailty at her edges and felt his connection to her, to all of this, tenuous in his hands. He felt ashamed that she had even stood up to greet him.

“You find illegally hacking into my schedule amusing.”

Arthur’s face burnt as he bowed, silently grateful when he saw Merlin follow suit out of the corner of his eye. “No, ma’am,” he muttered on his way up, eyes still trained on the ground.

She arched an eyebrow silently.

“You’ve brought a mage - young and quite unrefined if today’s executions are any measure - to impress me?” She spares barely a flick of a glance to Merlin, who flushes with eyes wide. He opens his mouth slowly, apparently to make an ill-advised response when she cuts him off.

“Mr. Emrys, as you were neither invited, nor are you family, you are excused.

Arthur breathes quickly, harshly. And after seeing the questioning look in Merlin’s face, now pointed towards him, speaks before a fully formed thought would stop him.

“Your Majesty, he is family. My family.” He grabs a hold of Merlin’s hand and the small smile in Merlin’s eyes is a small ledge of solidity.

The Queen doesn’t react except to sigh almost imperceptibly and take a slow, careful seat. 

“Arthur, given your behavior today and your virtual absence for the past 6 years, you might attempt to explain to me what that means to you exactly. That word, ‘family.’”

Arthur stared at the floor, the brief flare of courage now evaporated. She looked over, again, to Merlin.

“Young man, I see that you are here bearing good will and that you care greatly for Arthur. In another setting, we might have had a word or few about why you are wasting your talents on parlor tricks when wizardry is fast fading and our few true mages can scarcely bear the weight of both practicing and preserving the ancient ways.” 

She tilted her head, assessing him again.

“And you bear the Mark of the Dragon?”

Merlin flushed and dropped Arthur’s hand, stepping closer to her.

“Yes, Your Majesty. How…I mean… There are more…?”

And if Arthur hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he would have bet house, fortune and country that it hadn’t happened. But his eyes did not deceive him as he looked up and saw his great aunt, the veritable master of placid authority, actually smirk, and then _roll her eyes_ at Merlin.

“Why is it that young people always think those of us who are old to be in the dark?” Arthur felt her gaze on both of them.

“Yes, Mr. Emyrs, it appears we have much to discuss, starting chiefly with what Hunith has and has not informed you about your powers. But, “-- her tone lost the brief bit of casualness they had enjoyed -- “now I must clarify my earlier statement as the order that it was. Leave me to have a private audience with my great nephew.”

Merlin nodded, eyes still full of curiosity and a burgeoning respect. He bowed, quickly, and skirted in close to Arthur’s side. He took Arthur’s hand, squeezing quickly, and leaned in to whisper, “Breathe. She wants to help.” With a last encouraging look, he turned and walked quickly towards the doors.

Arthur watched him go and cycled through affection, apprehension, anger, and fear in a dizzying few blinks of his eyes. He looked back over at the Queen, thought of Merlin’s ordinary courage, and took the seat opposite of hers.

“Aunt Lilibet he started, and if she objected to the familiar address, she didn’t say. “I apologize.”

“For which offence, pray tell? Impersonating tourists at the public entrance or causing a minor fire in the Blue Room so that you could sneak away?”

Arthur opened his mouth to answer, to which she simply raised an eyebrow in silence until he shut it again.

“Or perhaps I should bestow pardons on you for compromising the entire security of Buckingham Palace by accessing our internal web network? Wreaking havoc on the schedule of several foreign visiting dignitaries by inserting a half hour on the day calendar that doesn’t actually exist?”

“I’ve changed and I’ve come to ask you to intervene in the execution of my father’s will.”

“Arthur,” and she said, and leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees, “Breaking rules, flaunting authority, ignoring tradition. Acting out instead of communicating responsibly.” And finally, gently, “What has changed?”

Arthur sat, rooted in his position, the familiar inadequacy and humiliation he felt in Uther’s presence teasing at the edge of his consciousness. He felt the pull, the temptation to cloak himself in it, let it naturally build the fire of self-righteous anger, and make him feel safe again. Arthur took one breath, then another, and remembered the ghost squeeze of Merlin’s hand. Ordinary courage.

“I don’t know the Uther Pendragon that you did. He may have been a charitable, responsible man. A man who would leave a will that would protect the dignity of the estate. This great man, that many knew, I never met.” Arthur’s voice grew with steadiness and he leaned forwards towards her.

“I am not proud of my behavior, but I understand it now. I was running from the grief, doubt, and resentment that I saw everyday, every time he looked at me - not my family and not my heritage. I wanted to belong, and every time he looked at me, I felt like I didn’t.”

Arthur palms were damp and chaos burned in his mind with every mention of his father. He missed the comfort of his carefully cultivated emptiness. The negligible side effect of being dead inside didn’t seem so bad in the absence of Merlin. But he knew now that numbing the darkness numbed the light as well. And Merlin, fiery, bright, blazing Merlin, was light and good and *his*. So bring on the fucking feelings.

The silence between them stretched, and she spoke first.

“Arthur, can you see that he intended for you to be free?”

Arthur, slowly, shook his head. “Your Majesty, can you see that I never wanted to be?”

She studied him again, and nodded once, slowly. “Indeed.” Nodding again, to some internal cue, she stood up and Arthur automatically followed.

Sensing immediate dismissal, he started again. “I ask you to sincerely consider intervening --“

“That’s quite sufficient, Arthur.” She cut him off, and the finality in her voice was unmistakeable.

“I will forestall the will’s execution for 1 year.”  Arthur repeated the words in his head to ensure he had heard correctly.

“I’ll expect you will be spending more time in country, henceforth, Lord Pendragon?” It did not sound like a question. Arthur nodded mutely anyway.

“I believe hosting of the Garter Service rotates to your House this spring. I look forward to your detailed oversight.”

She turned her back, motioning toward a staff member who materialized out of the corner.

“Good day, Arthur. Please convey to your young friend that, when he is ready to honor his own distinguished ancestry, the House of Windsor is happy to oblige.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Merlin supposed there were lots of topics he could be pondering, having been relegated to waiting outside. He burned with curiosity over what type of lashing Arthur was enduring. He spared a glance to the door guards, who continued, boringly, to resemble furniture more than living, breathing beings. Merlin sighed and started pacing. He tugged at his tie and loosened the first button on his shirt, as clearly the game of impressing Her Royalness was over. It seemed silly now in light of how much she appeared to know about him. But that thought just reminded him that yes, he was going to have a Very Serious Talk with his mother once he got home. To be honest, he had not necessarily believed he was alone in his magic, but putting it into the context of ancestry and family and, well, obligation, was just not something he had considered. And how the hell had she known about his dragon? He mentally shuffled “Interrogate Hunith” to the top of his back-home-to-do-list.   

Merlin stopped his pacing the moment the guards moved, in unison, to open the doors. He still had not figured out how they knew when to do that, but it didn’t matter because Arthur was walking out, directly towards him. He could tell absolutely nothing from Arthur’s face other than the high flush (which was there when he’d left him alone with the Queen) and the fact that he was determinedly not making eye contact with Merlin.

Merlin reached out, a half formed intention to try and slow Arthur down. Arthur simply scooped up his offered hand and pulled Merlin along, walking with a purpose.

“Let’s get out of here.”

It took them much less time to exit than enter, given that this time they simply walked straight into the public corridor and out of the entrance. It was awkward to walk hand in hand, especially at the pace Arthur had set, but his firm grip on Merlin was unyielding. Arthur seemed completely unaware of the wake of jostled strangers they were leaving behind. Merlin would have attempted some apologetic smiles, but this was London and these strangers made anonymous New Yorkers seem warm and fuzzy. Plus with Arthur half a stride ahead of him and his suit coat riding up, Merlin had an unapologetic view of his backside and yes, after last nights’ debauchery his mind was very much still there, thank you very much. Distracted, he bumped into said backside when Arthur pulled up short at a curbside. He folded himself into the car Merlin recognized as the same one that brought them discreetly this morning. When he jumped in behind Arthur and when they took off toward the hotel, he decided he was over the guessing game.

“Arthur, talk to me. What happened?”

Arthur took one breath, then another, and Merlin thought he could see something shift and settle in him. He turned to face Merlin and smiled, slowly, so sweetly, and with such light in his eyes that Merlin could not help but grin in return. He pulled Arthur into his arms and Arthur held on fiercely.

“It worked,” he said quietly. “Merlin, it worked.”

Merlin had to squeeze just a bit harder at the hope and wonder in Arthur’s voice, tenors of neither had he heard from him before. He pulled back enough for a firm kiss and left his arms leisurely draped on his shoulders.

“Well, you did have a terrifyingly talented “*wizard*” on your side…”

Merlin took Arthur’s eye-roll with the affection of a kiss and set about to do more of just that. He kissed Arthur with his own relief, his own shared joy to see the shadows gone from those serious green eyes.

Arthur folded him into his arms and Merlin went gladly, breathing him in, content. And wondering.

“Is everything going to change?,” he murmured into Arthur’s sleeve. Arthur only squeezed, holding him closer in response.

They made love lazily, blissed out in the afternoon sun bleeding through windows. Merlin had a chance to do his admiring up close and personal, licking hot stripes up and down Arthur’s ass, getting himself stretched out and ready with a combination of magic and three very familiar fingers, and then climbing onto a blissed out Arthur who had devolved into groans and murmurs of “Merlin…” long before, he looked down and wondered if all of this would last.

Afterwards, Arthur had suddenly been ready to take Merlin to every favorite place he once had in London. His eyes had shone over the cityscape and after jumping from this place to that, they landed in a small, lush Indian restaurant, tucked in a corner. There were no menus, but course after course of aromatic dishes, flavors exploding in their mouths, while they downed bottles of wine and traded impossible stories of growing up royal and growing up magic over giggles and candlelight. When they drifted, finally, back to the hotel room, they simply undressed and folded into bed, wrapped around each other.

At first he thought Arthur must have fallen asleep. There was just silence and Arthur’s even breathing. Then an arm wrapped across his chest squeezed and Arthur spoke in his deep, even voice. 

“What matters is what won’t change. That I love you. That I’m yours. And I’m going to keep you… and Gwen… forever.”

\------------------------------------------------------


	9. Epilogue

Arthur scowled at the piles of clothes strewn across his nicely-organized stacks of folded pants and shirts. It was not that he was terribly clean and tidy on a daily basis, but he did hold to a strong belief in detailed trip planning. A belief which bled into a strict packing methodology, which, in turn, started with organized and folded clothes in distinct piles. Piles that were now, thanks to Arthur’s 17th reminder to Merlin to start packing, buried under an assortment of skinny jeans and jersey shirts. 

Arthur put down the sack of doughnuts he’d run out to get - fulfilling the terms of the agreement which involved Merlin finally packing - and stalked into the bathroom. 

“Merlin, you cannot expect me to make sense of the havoc you have wrought in the bedroom.” 

Merlin was in the bath, standing under a stream of hot water, apparently not planning on finishing any time soon. He blinked his eyes open at the sound of Arthur’s voice and pushed his hair out his face as he leaned to crack open the shower door. 

“Sorry, love. What did you say?” he tossed to Arthur with a smile, water droplets clinging to his eyelashes. 

Arthur groaned internally, mentally rolled his eyes, and surrendered, yet again, to the adorableness of his lover. He closed the distance between them and kissed Merlin instead, hot steam leaking from the shower and curling around them both. He sidestepped the polite tirade he’d been saving up in favor of eliciting a moan from Merlin, tightening a fist in his damp hair. 

“I brought your doughnuts, “ Arthur said, simply, letting him go and walking back towards the bedroom.

“And I pulled my clothes!,” Merlin called after him, his voice muddled by the shower. “Under protest!”

Arthur smiled, rolling his eyes for real, and started moving their things into suitcases. They were headed back to England, for 3 months this time, so the Pendragon Estate, and therefore Arthur, could oversee the Order of the Garter ceremonies. 

The mansion would have to be renovated “to meet some minimal modicum of decency,” per his lovely Great Aunt Libby. 

“And I assume, since you know Morgana will be the first female inductee, you will see to it that the ceremony carries the utmost care and occasion that such a landmark event deserves,” had been her closing remark, on Arthur’s last trip to home. 

Which led immediately to three phone calls from Morgana, all which were declined by Arthur, as he raced back to the airport to catch the last flight going out that would make it back to New York in time see Gwen’s dance recital performance of “Yellow Submarine.” Merlin had met him at the door and they hurriedly stuffed themselves into a center row, hands clasped tightly, as the lights went up on Gwen’s face. As usual, the panicky flight/fight energy that Arthur felt every time he met with the Queen faded with Merlin and Gwen in sight. 

He had made three trips alone, two of which heavily involved Morgana, who had prepared reports, conducted staff briefings, and tonelessly and efficiently brought Arthur up to speed on ins and outs of the Estate. When, during a break, he had cautiously tried to open up a dialogue beyond the Estate business, she had simply stared at him wordlessly, and went back to explaining the intricate legal relationship between the Foundation (hers) and the Estate (his). He’d thought maybe he’d try again. In a year or so. 

Merlin got nervous every time he left. 

“What about your practice?” he’d challenged.

“Merlin, I told you, I’ve covered all of my colleague’s sick days and vacations two years with no breaks and no holidays. They owe me a ton of time.”

And the next time. 

“Don’t you feel guilty leaving Gwen? What if she develops an attachment disorder?”

“You realize I’m a pediatrician who is actually aware of developmental milestones and therefore uniquely qualified to call bullshit on such a debased play on my parental guilt?”

And the next next time.

“You know, air travel is not as safe as it used to be--“

“Merlin!”

So when Arthur came back to drop the news of the long trip, of the long trip *with* Merlin and Gwen he’d figured it would be met with excitement. Not so much. Unless you count Merlin aghast with bugged out eyes and flailing hands, excitement. 

“What? We’ll have to take Gwen out of school?! What will I do for three months in *England*?!”

Arthur had just blinked at him, swore, then stalked out of their apartment to cool his heels with a long day of work. He dropped Gwen off with Hunith after school and when he came home, he could smell the takeout from Kismet from the door - Merlin’s eternal apology gesture. He bypassed the kitchen for the bedroom however, sucked Merlin until he came, and then slid inside him, hands on either side of his face, and fucked him, until he came again. Afterwords, they sat on the floor in the living room, eating Indian food off the coffee table with Gwen’s toys shoved to the side.

“Merlin. Gwen is nearly half a grade ahead in school, and we already talked about pulling her out early for a trip. You can do whatever you like for three months, as you are the only one here who can, you know, *bend reality* for kicks. So what is it?”

Merlin had sighed and mumbled something about legacy and work and Arthur kicked him, eyebrows raised impatiently. 

“I said,” Merlin emphasized, “that I’m…less than excited about what the Queen has in store for me.”

“Translation - you are scared to death you have actual duties and responsibilities that you like to make fun of me for.”

Arthur got a face full of Naan, which he interpreted as hitting the mark right on. 

“You know Merlin,” he said gently, “don’t you ever feel like you were made for more than fixing iPods and bad plumbing?”

Merlin nodded and sighed. 

“Yeah. *That*’s what I”m afraid of.”

And Arthur got that - understood that pill as the one he’d been swallowing his entire life. He backed off that night, but continued making the plans for their trip. And now it was the day before liftoff and Arthur thought that having to sort, fold, and pack Merlin’s clothes was really a minor hassle in the whole scheme of things. 

“Daddy, I’m ready!” Gwen trampled in, with her arms full of a haphazard collection of clothing, books, and what appeared to be glitter pens. She dropped the pile on top of Merlin’s pile, on top of Arthur’s pre-sorted stacks, and looked at Arthur expectantly. 

“Daddy said if I packed, I could have doughnuts.”

And Arthur just threw his head back, and laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> A big, endless thanks to Kestrel Sparhawk who beta'd like a champ for a total novice and my anon friend who pinch hit, cheered, and gently pushed me to complete this. And thanks to all of you whose hits/kudos/comments were the best encouragement ever. 
> 
> All comments/feedback welcome!


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